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6LEATIED FROtt 
FIELDS OF LITERATURE 



PUBLISHED BY 

J. C. TEMPLE CO. 

33 W. GAY ST. COLUMBUS, OHIO 



GOLDEN THOUGHTS 

IN 

POETRY and PROSE 

Gleaned from Fields of Literature 



POETRY 

If it be of no use to make men happy, to quicken in them 
the joy of living, to heighten their pleasures, to dry their tears, 
to teach them wisdom, to open their eyes, to purify their 
thoughts, to gird them to fight, to brace them to endure, to 
teach them to be gentle, then, indeed, we may ask, "What is 
the use of poetry?" But, while poetry can do all these things, 
it must be allowed by the most practical that it has a very 
important part to play in the work of the world. 

— Richard Le Callienne 



When God fashioned the germ of the rose-tree he made 
possible the beauty of its flower. When the Divine Artist 
would produce a poem, he plants a germ of it in a human soul, 
and out of that soul the poem springs and grows as from the 
rose-tree the rose. — James A. Garfield 



No intellectual investment bears such ample and regular 
interest as gems of literature, deposited in the memory during 
our childhood and youth. — Max Muller 



Selected, Edited and 
Copyright 1922 by J. C. Temple 



PUBLISHED BY 

J. C TEMPLE CO. 

COLUMBUS, OHIO 






Abraham Lincoln 10 

After School 50 

After School 52 

American Creed (An) 20 
American's Creed (The) 20 
American Flag (The) . . 3 
"Are You There?" ....27 
Around The Corner ... 33 
Beautiful Allegory (A) 75 
Benj. Franklin's Toast . .45 

Boost 71 

Boy's Remarks to His 

Stomach (A) 78 

Cheerful Way (The) ..74 
Christmas Pudding (A) 75 
Civil Creed for the Boys 

and Girls of America 23 

Creed for All (A) 21 

Creed of an American 

Schoolboy (The) ...20 

Daughter 17 

Do It Now 48 

Do You Believe in Santa 

Claus? 39 

Education is Action ... .63 

Enduring Work 63 

Family (The) 1 6 

Family Financiering ...61 

Father 17 

Fellow That Your Mother 

Thinks You Are(The) 38 
Find Your State's Star on 

the Flag 4 

Flag (The) 7 

Flower of Liberty (The) 5 

Gems 80 

George Washington .... 10 

Get To Work 71 

Give Us Men 32 

God Give Us Men 33 

Going Down 70 

"Good-Bye" 64 

Good Die Young (The) 74 
Gospel of Brotherhood .30 

Happiest Days 42 

Happiest Time of a 

Woman's Life (The) .19 
Have Courage, My Boy, 

To Say No 34 

Have You Wrlitten to 

Mother? 18 

"Hello" 66 

His Last Request /9 

His New Brother 29 

Home 12 

Home 13 



INDEX 

Hope 64 

House by the Side of the 

Road (The) 36 

If I But Knew 19 

*Tfs" for Girls 73 

In Flanders' Fields .... 64 
In Mother's Room .... 13 

Invitation (An) 49 

I Shall Not Pass ThisWay43 

It Can Be Done! 69 

It Often Happens 51 

Jack and Jill 56 

Johnny's Philosophy ... 60 

Knocker (The) 79 

Large Edition (A) .... 7 1 
Let Me Walk with the 

Men in the Road 38 

Life's Common Things .28 

Life's Lesson , . . 68 

Life's Mirror 55 

Lincoln on Washington . 10 
Lincoln's Gettysburg Ad- 
dress— Nov. 1 9, 1 863 11 
Lincoln's Great Qualities 10 
Lost 70 



-? 



6 5 



Recipe for a Happy New 

Year 58 

Red.White and Blue (The) 5 
Roosevelt's Favorite 

Poem 54 

Scatter Seeds of Kind- 
ness 24 

Send Them to Bed With 

a Kiss 47 

Smile T 67 

Smile and Hustle 67 

Solitary Way (A) 30 

So Little Makes Us Glad 57 

Some Day 44 

Sometime, Somewhere .44 
Sometime, Somewhere .45 
Son of Rest (The).... 35 

So Would You 71 

Star-Spangled Banner 

^ (The) 7 

Sundown 53 

Sweetest Things of 

Earth 36 

Tell Your Gratitude .... 52 

, K Y 'tV ii nn Thank God Every Morn- 
Lost — A 1 hrul o\) • J ,t 

mg o I 

That Christmas Turkey 76 



Love's Dream of Home 
Make Childhood Sweet 
Man Behind the Smile 

(The) 

Man Who Will Win(The) 



34 
46 



48 
69 



Miss Twenty-One 65 



Thinking 68 

Three Dudes (The) ...79 

Thy Mother 16 

To My Son ./. 37 

Trees 55 



Mother 8 PrayCr 15 Tribute t0 M ° ther 

Mother . . . . . . '. . . . . . ..17 Tribute to the Do § ( A ) 62 



Mother's Love (A) 15 

My Creed 76 

My Mother 14 

My Mother 15 

"My Neighbor Jim" 25 

New Surgery (The) ... 78 
Now Be a Good Boy, 



Two Lovers 41 

Under the Stars and 

Stripes 7 

Valentine 65 

Volunteer (The) 9 

Vow of Allegiance (The) 3 
Watch the Corners .... 56 

Good-Bye '.....26 Watch Yourself Go By .31 

Old Flag Forever (The) 6 Water 58 

One Flag (The) 8 Water 59 

Only One Mother 15 We Go This Way But 

Our Banner 7 Once 43 

Our Flag 6 What America Means . . . 23 

"OTHERS" 22 What Sort of a Father 

Pa Shaved Off His Are You? 26 



What Would You Take? 46 

When I Get Time 40 

Wish for Every Day (A) 22 



Words Left Unsaid 
You Kissed Me 



Whiskers 72 

Patriotism 69 

Pledge to the Flag (The) 3 
Pluck Your Roses When 

You Can 54 

Possession 28 Your Flag and My Flag 

, ©C1A690684 

; .-- f 



,51 
77 
. 9 



DEC 



The American Flag 

The stars upon it were Hike the bright morning stars of God, and 
the stripes upon it were beams of morning light. As at the early 
dawn the stars shine forth even While it grows light, and then, as the 
sun advances, that light breaks into banks and streaming lines of color, 
glowing red and intense white striving together and ribbing the horizon 
with bars effulgent; so, on the American Flag, stars and beams of 
many colored light shine out together. 

It is the banner of dawn. How glorious has been its origin! 
How glorious has been its history ! How divine its meaning ! In all 
the world there is no other banner that carries such hope, such 
grandeur of spirit, such soul inspiring truth, as our dear old American 
flag. Made by liberty, made for liberty, nourished in its spirit, car- 
ried in iits service, and never once in all the earth made to stoop to 
despotism ! 

Our flag carries American ideas, American history, and American 
feelings. It is a whole National history. It is the Constitution. It 
is the Government. It is the free people that stand in the government 
on the Constitution. , — Henry Ward Beecher 

It speaks sublimity, and every part has a voice. Its stripes of 
alternate red and white proclaim the original union of thirteen states 
to maintain the declaration of independence. White is purity; red, 
for valor; blue, for justice. . — Charles Sumner 

Wherever our flag is raised, on land or sea, it always stands for 
liberty or humanity; and wherever it is assaulted the whole Nation 
rises up to defend it. ■ — William McKinley 

We will have no government standard but our own, and accept no 
other flag than the glorious stars and stripes. — William McKinley 



The Pledge to the Flag 

Flag of our Great Republic! Hallowed by noblest deeds and 
loving sacrifice ; Guardian of our honor ; an inspiration in every battle 
for the right; whose stars and stripes stand for Beauty, Purity, Truth, 
Patriotism and the Union.. We Salute Thee and for thy de- 
fense, the protection of our Country and the conservation of the liberty 
of the American people, we pledge our hearts, our lives and our 
sacred honor. • 

The Vow of Allegiance 

I pledge allegiance to my Flag, and the Republic for which it 
stands; one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all. 

— 3 — 





13 RHODE. ISLAND 


26 MICHIGAN 


39 NORTH DAKOTA . 


14 VERMONT 


27 FLORIDA 


40 SOUTH DAKOTA 


' : ' ■■■ ~ — 


28 TEXAS 


4) MONTANA 


29 1 OWA 


42 WASHINGTON 


17 OHIO 


30 WISCONSIN 


,43 IDAHO 


18 LOUISIANA 


31 CALIFORNIA 


44 WYOMING 


59 iM DIANA 


32 MINNESOTA: 


45 UTAH 


1 DELAWARE 7 MARYLAND 20 MISSISSIPPI 


33 OREGON 


46 OKLAHOMA 


2 PENNSYLVANIA 8 SOUTH CAROLINA 2\ i-t'Q. NO IS 


34 : KA N S AS 


47 NEW MEXiC&l : 


3 NEW JERSEY 9 NEW HAMPSHIRE 22 ALABAMA 


35 WEST VIRGINIA 


48 ARIZONA 


4 GEORGIA. !0 VIRGINIA 23 MAINE 






5 CONNECTICUT II NEW YORK 24- MISSOURI 


37 NEBRASKA 




6 MASSACHUSETTS 12 NGRTti CAROL'. !"« 25 A P K ANS AS . 


;'■' 3p : f i^OilDO : : 





Find Your State's Star on the Flag 

Every one knows that the nation's flag contains 48 stars — one for 
each state in the Union — but few understand 1 just how the stars are 
arranged, or how you can locate the star corresponding to a given state. 

The arrangement of stars in the flag is carefully regulated by law 
and executive order. The last executive order on the subject, issued 
on October 26, 1912, provided for 48 stars to be arranged in six 
horizontal rows of eight stars each, and official flags are now in that 
form. 

Starting in the upper left hand corner and reading each row from 
left to right, as a book is read, the star corresponding to each state 
is placed in order of the state's ratification of the constitution and 
admission to the Union, thus it is easy to identify the star if date of 
admission is known. 

Thus, star No. 1, in the upper left hand corner is for Delaware, 
w^hich was the first state to ratify the constitution, on Dec. 7, 1 787; 
No. 2 is Pennsylvania, No. 3 is New Jersey, and so on, down to the 
newest state, Arizona, which is represented by star No. 48 in the 
lower right hand corner. The accompanying diagram shows at a 
glance the order in which the states were admitted and the position 
of the stars corresponding to those in the flag. 

The dimensions of the flag are carefully fixed by law. Its length 
should be just 1 .9 times its height. There are 1 3 horizontal stripes, 
alternating red and white — seven are red and six are white. 

The union, or part on which the stars appear, should be seven 
stripes high and its length .76 of the height of the flag. The stars 
are five-pointed, with one point directly upward. 

-4 — 



When a new state is admitted its star is added to the flag on the 
Fourth of July following the date of admission. 

The days prescribed by law for the display of flags on government 
buildings and the houses of all patriotic citizens are as follows: 

Lincoln's Birthday, Feb. 1 2 ; Washington's Birthday, Feb. 22 ; 
Inauguration Day, March 4; Battle of Lexington, April 19; Battle 
of Manila Bay, May 1 ; Memorial Day, May 30; Mother's Day, 
second Sunday in May ; Flag Day, June 1 4 ; Battle of Bunker Hill, 
June 1 7 ; Independence Day, July 4 ; Labor Day, first Monday in 
September ; Lake Erie Day, Sept. 1 ; Lake Champlain Day, Sept. 
} 1 ; Battle of Saratoga, Oct. 1 7; Surrender of Yorktown, Oct. 19. 



The Red, White and Blue 

To these broad shores my fathers came, 

From lands beyond the sea; 

They left their homes, they left their friends 

To breathe an air more free. 

To them an alien land it seemed 

With customs strange and new, 

But my heart knows but one dear flag — 

The Red, the White, the Blue. 

Columbia, to me thou'st been 

A mother fond and true; 

My heart's best love and loyal trust 

I gladly offer you. 

Let others sing of native lands 

Far o'er the ocean's foam — 

The spot where floats the Stars and Stripes 

Shall ever be my home. — Josephine M. Fabricant 



The Flower of Liberty 

What flower is this that greets the morn 
Its hues from Heaven so freshly born? 
With burning star and flaming band 
It kindles all the sunset land; 
O tell us what its name may be — 
Is this the flower of liberty? 

It is the banner of the free — 

The starry flower of liberty! 

— Oliver Wendell Holmes 
— 5 — 



The Old Flag Forever 

She's up there — Old Glory — where lightnings are sped; 
She dazzles the nations with ripples of red; 
And she'll wave for us living, or droop o'er us dead! — 
The flag of Our Country forever! 

She's up there — Old Glory — how bright the stars stream! 
And the stripes like red signals of liberty gleam! . 
And we dare for her living, or dream the last dream 
'Neath the Flag of Our Country forever! 

She's up there — Old Glory — no tyrant-dealt scars, 
No blur on her brightness, no stain on her stars! 
The brave blood of heroes hath crimsoned her bars — 
She's the Flag of Our Country forever! 

-^Fran\ L. Stanton 

Our Flag 

A quiet house, a quiet street, 

A needle and a thread ; 
A scissors and a square of blue, 

Some strips of white and red; 
And slender hands that deftly stitched 

The shining stars across; 
'Twas thus the flag of Liberty was 

Made by Betsy Ross. 

Tho' Father Time has worn to rags, 

The ermine robes of kings, 
And left the guns of war to rust 

Among forgotten things; 
The crowns and scepters at his touch 

Have turned to dust and dross, 
Yet not a broken stitch has marred 

The work of Betsy Ross. 

In stately halls, in lowly homes, 

Today its colors wave, 
The shelter of the world's oppressed, 

The beacon of the brave. 
Let glory on the nation's shield, 

Among the stars emboss, 
The thread, the needle and the name 

Ancl fame of Betsy Ross. — Author Unknown 
— 6 — 






Under the Stars and Stripes 

High on the world did our fathers of old, 

Under the stars and stripes, 
Blazon the name that we now must uphold, 

Under the stars and stripes; 
Vast in the past they have builded an arch 

Over which freedom has lighted her torch, 
Follow it! Follow it! Come, let us march 

Under the stars and stripes! 

— Madison Caivein 

The Flag 

Here comes the Flag! 

Hail it! Cheer it! 

Three for the stars 

Three for the bars! 
Cheers for the sailors that fought on the wave for it, 
Cheers for the soldiers that always were brave for it, 
Tears for the men that went down to the grave for it. 

Here Comes The Flag! —Arthur Macy 



The Star-Spangled Banner 

'Tis a glorious banner of red, white and blue; 
Each star as a state stands loyal and true; 
It is liberty's symbol and always will be 
Her bright standard on land or on sea. 

I love thee, Old Glory, oh flag of the free, 
As I love my Country and fair Liberty; 
In shimsmering silk or in tatters and rags 
I Salute Thee, O Flag of all flags! 

— James Austin Murray 

Our Banner 

O stars of our flag, one by one you arose, 

Till the sky on our banner was blazing with splendor! 
Each ray from their depths is a night to our foes, 
And a sunburst of joy to the gallant defender. 
Not only their worth cheers the land of your birth, 
But flings its clear light to the ends of the earth! 

And the nation shall never from victory rest, 
Till the world is as free as the Land of the West. 

—Will Carlton 
— 7 — 



The One Flag 

The old flag! 

The bold flag! 
The worthy, good-as^-gold flag! 
The flag that faces strangers, 
And the flag that never pales; 
The flag that braves all danger, 
And the flag that never quails. 

The new flag! 

The true flag! 
The grand Red, Whiite, and Blue flag! 
The flag that never falters, 
And the flag that never fails! 

The bright flag! 

The right flag! 
The dear old heart's-delight flag! 
The flag that leads our armies 
On a thousand bloody fields; 
The flag that guides our navies, 
And the flag that saves and shields. 

The free flag! 

And THE flag! 
The pride-of-Iand-and-sea flag! 
The flag that never threatens; 
Yet the flag that never yields! 

The great flag! 

Our state flag! 
New York-to^Golden Gate flag! 
The flag of loyal lineage, 
The flag of noble birth; 
The flag that flies the globe around, 
And measures all its girth. 

The best flag! 

The blest flag! 
The NorthrSouth-East-and-West flag! 
The flag of flags! The ONE flag! 
The only flag on earth! 

By permission of the author, James Ball Naylor 
— 8 — 



Your Flag and My Flag 

Your flag and) my flag! And how it flies today 

In your land and my land, and half a world away ! 

Rose red and blood red, the stripes forever gleam, 

Snow white and soul white — the good forefather's dream; 

Sky blue and true blue, with stars to gleam aright — 

A gloried guidon of the day ; a shelter through the night. 

Your flag and my flag! To every star and stripe, 

The drums beat as hearts beat and fifers shrilly pipe! 

Your flag and my flag — a blessing in the sky, 

Your hope and my hope — it never hid a lie! 

Home land and far land and half the world around 

Our glory hears our glad salute, and ripples to the sound! 

Your flag and my flag, and, oh, how much it holds, 
Your land and my land, secure within its folds! 
Your heart and my heart beat quicker at the sight ; 
Sun-kissed and wind-tossed — Red and Blue and White. 
The one flag — the great flag — the flag for me and you, 
Glorified all else beside, the Red and White and Blue. 
By permission of P. F. Volland Co. — Wilbur D. Nesbit 



The Volunteer 

Who was the child that stood at the entry 

Watching the khaki-clad file as they passed? 
Did you not heed her? She saw every soldier 

Claimed by a group of his friends, but the last. 
He, while the rest heard farewells and good wishes, 

Having none there to bless him, turned away. 
Nobody saw but the child. I watched her 

Push through the masses, and heard her say: 

"Have you no friends, poor soldier, to meet you? 

Have you no little girl to cry? 
When you are going where guns will be shooting 

Wasn't there some one to tell you good-bye? 
Don't you wish you, too, had some one to kiss you? 

I will, then, sir, if you want me to. 
Good-bye — and when I say 'Now I Lay Me,' 

I'll have God remember you." 

— Julia Martin, Seattle, Wash. 
— 9 — 



George Washington 

"He knew no divided fidelity, no separate obligations; his most sa- 
cred duty to himself was his highest duty to his country and his God." 



Lincoln on Washington 

Washington is the mightiest name on earth — long since mightiest 
in the cause of civil liberty; still mightiest in the moral reformation. 
On that name a eulogy is expected. It cannot be. To add bright- 
ness to the sun or glory to the name of Washington is alike impossible. 
Let none attempt it. In solemn awe pronounce the name, and in its 
naked, deathless splendor, leave it shining on. 



Abraham Lincoln 

(Born Feb. 12, 1809, Died April 15, 1865) 

Born in obscurity, nurtured in poverty, homely, humble and 
ungainly, education gleaned from borrowed books, woodsman, rafts- 
man, clerk, lawyer, legislator, president and martyr. 

Advanced from the lowest depths to the greatest heights. Gave 
all he had for freedom's cause, expecting nothing in return. He 
looms a great colossal mortal for all times. 

In our grateful hearts the memory of him is constantly fresh and 
green as the years roll into eternity. 

The example he set and what he did remains a sacred heritage 
to our great nation forevermore. "And now he belongs to the ages." 

— Thomas H. Ainsroorth 

Lincoln's Great Qualities 

Men will imitate and admire his unmoved firmness, his inflexible 
conscience for the right; and yet his gentleness, as tender as a 
woman's, his moderation of spirit, which not all the heat of party 
could inflame, nor all the jars and disturbances of this country shake 
out of its place. / swear you to an emulation of his justice, his 
moderation, and his mercy. —Henry Ward Beecher 



I am not bound to win, but I am bound to be true. I am not 
bound to succeed, but I am bound to live up to what light I have. 
I must stand with anybody that stands right; stand with him while 
he is right and part with him when he goes wrong. 

' — ^Abraham Lincoln 

You can fool some of the people all of the time; 
You can fool all of the people some of the time; 
But you can't fool all of the people all of the time. 

— Abraham Lincoln 
— 10 — 



Lincoln's Gettysburg Address — Nov. 19, 1863 

Fourscore and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth upon this 
continent a new Nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the 
proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged 
in a great civil war, testing whether that Nation, or any Nation so 
conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a 
great battlefield of that war. We have come here to dedicate a 
portion of that field as a final resting place for those who here gave 
their lives that that Nation might live. It is altogether fitting and 
proper that we should do this. But in a larger sense, we cannot 
dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The 
brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated 
it far above our power to add or detract. The world will little note, 
or long remember what we say here; but it can never forget what 
they did here. It is for us, the living, rather to be dedicated here 
to the unfinished work which they who fought here have, thus far, 
so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the 
great task remaining before us; that from these honored dead we 
take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last 
full measure of devotion; that we here highly resolve that these dead 
shall not have died in vain; that this Nation, under God, shall have 
a new birth of freedom; and that government of the people, by the 
people and for the people, shall not perish from the earth. 



Tribute to Mother 

On this happy Christmas morning, let none forget mother; be she 

ever so far away, let some tribute of love be sent to her. Honor 

dear old mother. Time has scattered the snowy flakes on her brow, 

plowed deep furrows on her cheek — but is she not beautiful now? 

The lips are thin and shrunken, but these are the lips that have 

kissed many a hot tear from childish cheeks and they are the sweetest 

cheeks and lips in the world. The eye is dim, yet it glows with the 

soft radiance of holy love which can never fade. The sands of life 

are nearly run out, but feeble as she is, she will go further and reach 

down lower for you than anyone else upon earth. When the world 

shall despise and forsake you, when it leaves you by the wayside to 

die, unnoticed, the dear old mother will gather you up in her feeble 

arms and carry you home and tell you of all your virtues until you 

almost forget that your soul is disfigured by vices. Love her dearly 

and cheer her declining years with tender devotion. 

— Author Unknown 
-11 — 



Home 

No other word in any language of civilized peoples, except 
"Mother," has such a grip on the human heart as the word "Home." 
It is a symbol that should bring to mind a picture of the dearest, 
sweetest, most sacred spot on earth. At the bottom of all a man's 
hopes, is his dream of wife and children and home. The ideal home 
comes nearest of anything else to his idea of heaven; a place where 
the mind finds peace, serenity, calmness, quiet, joy, recuperation, 
refreshment, renewal. The ideal home is where ideal living, or that 
which comes nearest ideal living, is found on the earth. It is a place 
for renewing our youth, renewing our strength, renewing our courage, 
renewing our faith, our affections. It is where the Christ spirit 
dwells — the spirit of the Golden Rule. — Marden 



Home 

Stay, stay at home, my heart, and rest; 
Home-keeping hearts are happiest, 
For those that wander they know not where 
Are full of trouble and full of care; 
To stay at home is best. 

Weary and homesick and distressed, 
They wander east, they wander west, 
And are baffled and blown about 
By the winds of the wilderness of doubt; 
To stay at home is best. 

Then stay at home, my heart, and rest; 
The bird is safest in its nest; 
O'er all that flutter their wings and fly 
A hawk is hovering in the sky; 

To stay at home is best. — Longfellor» 



Home 

Oh, if you would gather up all the tender memories, all the lights 
and shades of the heart, all the greetings and reunions, all filial, 
fraternal, paternal and conjugal affections, and you had only just 
four letters with which to spell out that height and depth, and length 
and breadth, and magnitude and eternity, you would with streaming 
eyes, and trembling voice, and agitated hand, write it out in those 
four living capitals, H-O-M-E. —Talmage 



Politeness is to do and say the kindest thing Jn the kindest way. 

— 12 — 



Home 

Home's not merely four square walls, 

Though hung with pictures nicely gilded; 

Home is where affection calls, 

Filled with the shrines the heart has builded. 

Home! go watch the faithful dove, 

Sailing 'neath the heavens above us; 
Home is where there's one to love; 

Home is where there's one to love us. 

Home's not merely roof and room; 

It needs something to endear it; 
Home is where the heart can bloom; 

Where there's some kind lip to cheer it. 

What is home with none to meet! 

None to welcome, none to greet us! 
Home is sweet and only sweet, 

When there's one we love to meet us. 

— Author Unknown 

In Mother's Room 

In mother's room, 
O blessed spot! 

Where childhood's griefs were soon forgot; 
For dreariest hour of wintriest day 
Held still some lingering light of May, 

In mother's room. 

In mother's room, 
When hope betrayed, 
Or Fortune's smile shone undismayed; 
Less bitter seemed to grow the ill, 
And happiness glowed brighter still, 

In mother's room. 

In mother's room, 
Tis holy ground, 

The threshold of a low, green mound; 
For with crossed hands on faithful breast, 
Life's first, best friend lay there at rest 
In mother's room. 

— Virginia B. Harrison 
— 13 — 



My Mother 

Who fed me from her gentle breast 
And hushed me in her arms to rest, 
And on my cheek sweet kisses prest? 
My mother. 

When sleep forsook my open eye, 
Who was it sung sweet lullaby 
And rocked me that I should not cry? 
My mother. 

Who sat and watched my infant head 
When sleeping in my cradle bed, 
And tears of sweet affection shed? 
My mother. 

When pain and sickness made me cry, 
Who gazed upon my heavy eye 
And wept, for fear that I should die? 

My mother. 

Who ran to help me when I fell 
And would some pretty story tell, 
Or kiss the part to make it well? 
My mother. 

Who taught my infant lips to pray, 
To love God's holy word and day, 
And walk in wisdom's pleasant way? 
My mother. 

And can I ever cease to be 
Affectionate and kind to thee 
Who wast so very kind to me, — 
My mother. 

Oh no, the thought I cannot bear; 
And if God please my life to spare 
I hope I shall reward thy care, 
My mother. 

When thou art feeble, old and gray, 
My healthy arm shall be thy stay, 
And I will soothe thy pains away, 
My mother. 
— 14 — 



And when I see thee hang thy head, 
'Twill be my turn to watch thy bed, 
And tears of sweet affection shed. — 
My mother. 
— — Author Unknown 

Mother 

The noblest thoughts my soul can claim, 
The holiest words my tongue can frame, 
Unworthy are to praise the name 

More sacred than all other. 
An infant, when her love first came — 
A man, I find it just the same; 
Reverently I breath her name, 

The blessed name of mother. 

— George Griffith Fetter 

My Mother 
If I were asked to give a thought which in one word would speak 
A unity of brotherhood, a sympathy complete, 
A hundred happy cheery ways, a mind that knows its own, 
Contented midst a throng of folk, yet peaceful when alone, 
A heart that sheds its silent glow, to brighten many another, 
Without a moment of delay, I'd say, "You mean my mother." 

, — Author Unknown 

A Mother's Love 

A mother's love — how sweet the name! 

What is a mother's love? 
A noble, pure, and tender flame, 

Enkindled from above, 
To bless a heart of earthly mould; 
The warmest love that can grow cold; 

This is a mother's love. — James Montgomery 



Only One Mother 

Most of the good things in this life come to us in twos and threes, 
dozens and hundreds — plenty of roses, stars, sunsets, rainbows, 
brothers and sisters, aunts and cousins, comrades and friends, but 
only one mother in this wide, wide world. 

_- — _ — Kate Douglas Wiggin 

I thank God for my mother as for no other gift of His bestowing. 

— Frances E. Willard 
— 15 — 



Thy Mother 

Lead thy mother tenderly 

Down life's steep decline; 
Once her arm was thy support, 

Now she leans on thine. 
See upon her loving face 

Those deep lines of care? 
Think — it was her toil for thee 

Left that record there. 

Ne'er forget her tireless watch 

Kept by day and night, 
Taking from her step the grace, 

From her eyes the light ; 
Cherish well her faithful heart, 

Which through weary years 
Echoed with its sympathy, 

All thy smiles and tears. 

Thank God for thy mother's love, 

Guard the priceless boon; 
For the bitter parting hour 

Cometh all too soon. 
When thy graceful tenderness 

Loses power to save, 
Earth will hold no dearer spot, 

Than thy mother's grave. — Kate Hogan 



The Family 

The family is like a book — 

The children are the leaves, 
The parents are the covers 

That protecting beauty gives. 

At first the pages of the book 

Are blank and purely fair, 
But Time soon writeth memories 

And painteth pictures there. 

Love is the little golden clasp 

That bindeth up the trust ; 
Oh, break it not, lest all the leaves 

Should scatter and be lost! —Author Unknown 
— 16 — 



Father 

A rock of strength to lean upon 

In time of joy or stress, 
An understanding loyal soul, 

A heart of tenderness; 
A mind all wisdom knowing 

How justice and love to blend; 
A teacher, loving, patient, kind, 

My father and my friend. 

Mother 

There is just one, and only one, 
Whose love shall fail me never. 

Just one who lives from sun to sun, 
With constant love endeavor. 

There is just one, and only one, 
On earth there is no other. 

In Heaven a noble work was done 
When God made man a Mother 



Daughter 

You're to play a part my girl, 

On this old world of ours, 
Yes, to play the part of sunshine 

In the dull and dreary hours. 
You're to shed a ray of brightness 

O'er the paths that you may roam, 
And a bounty of sweet gladness, 

You're to bring within the home. 
You must be blithe and cheerful 

With a smile upon your face, 
And perform your irksome duties 

With a kindly genial grace. 
You must be thoughtful and forgiving 

With a kindly, generous heart, 
For, you know, you're but rehearsing 

Just to play A Woman's part. 

— Author Unknown 

As pure as a pearl, and as perfect: 

A noble and innocent girl. Meredith 

— 17 — 



Have You Written to Mother? 

Pray, may I ask you, worthy lad, 
Whose smile no care can smother, 

Though busy life throbs round about, 
Have you written home to mother? 

You are fast forgetting, aren't you quite 
How fast the weeks went flying; 

And that a little blotted sheet 
Unanswered still is lying? 

Don't you remember how she stood, 

With wistful glance at parting? 
Don't you remember how the tears 

Were in her soft eyes starting. 

Have you forgotten how her arm 

Stole round you to caress you? 
Have you forgotten those low words: 

"Good-by, my son; God bless you?" 

Oh! do not wrong her patient love; 

Save God's, there is no other 
So faithful through all mists of sin; 

Fear not to write to mother. 

Tell her how hard it is to walk 

As walked the Master, lowly; 
Tell her how hard it is to keep 

A man's life pure and holy. 

Tell her to keep the lamp of prayer, 

A light, a beacon burning; 
Whose beams shall reach you far away, 

Shall lure your soul returning. 

Tell her you love her dearly still, 

For fear some sad tomorrow 
Shall bear away the listening soul, 

And leave you lost in sorrow. 

And then, through bitter, falling tears, 

And sighs you may not smother, 
You will remember when too late 

You did not write to mother. — Jane Ronahon 
— 18 — 



The Happiest Time of a Woman's Life 

What's the happiest time of a woman's life? 

Is it her schoolgirl days, 
When thoughts and hopes half- formed are rife 

Amid her glad wild ways? 
Ah! No, not then. 
The happiest time is yet to come — but when? 

What's the happiest time of a woman's life? 

Is it her virgin prime, 
When love awakes, ere she's a wife, 

Is it that golden time? 
Ah! No, not then. 
A happier time is coming yet — but when? 

What's the happiest time of a woman's life? 

Is it her wedding day, 
When vows are pledged, and as a wife 

She's bound to him for aye? 
Say, is it then? 
Ah! No, not yet; the time is coming. When? 

The happiest time in a woman's life? 

Ah! It has come at last; 
For, hark! I hear a little voice, 

And footsteps toddling fast; 
And the happiest hours, I know, are these, 
When the children are playing about her knees. 

— Frances H. Lee 

If I But Knew 

If I but knew that somehow, somewhere, I 
Had dried a tear or lessened sorrow's sigh, — 
Had slaked the thirst of parching fever's lips, 
Or led some soul through trial's dark eclipse, 
Then I should feel life's mission had been true, — 
If I but knew! 

If I but knew some heart this side the tomb 
Had by mine act been rescued from the gloom, 
Or that one life had grown in noble deeds 
Because somewhere I'd sown some worthy seeds, 
The thought would drive dark clouds from out life's view, — 
If I but knew! —Author Unknown 

— 19 — 



The American's Creed 

I believe in the United States of America as a government of the 
people* by the people, for the people; whose just powers are derived 
from the consent of the governed; a democracy in a republic; a 
sovereign nation of many sovereign states; a perfect union, one and 
inseparable; established upon those principles of freedom, equality, 
justice, and humanity, for which American patriots sacrificed their 
lives and fortunes. 

I therefore believe it is my duty to my country to love it; to 
support its constitution, to obey its laws; to respect its flag; and to 
defend it against all enemies. — Walter Tyler Page 

The "creed" that won the prize of $1,000 offered by the City of Baltimore. 
Officially adopted by Congress, April 13, 1918. 



An American Creed 

I am an American. I believe in the dignity of labor, the sanctity 
of the home, and the high destiny of democracy. Courage is my 
birthright, justice my ideal, and faith in humanity my guiding star. 
By the sacrifice of those who suffered that I might live, who died 
that America might endure, I pledge my life to my country and the 
liberation of mankind. — Author Unknown 



The Creed of an American Schoolboy 

I believe in my country and my state, in the nobility and purity 
of American men and women, and in the greatness of American 
heroes of yesterday and today. 

I believe in the right and justice of submitting myself willingly to 
all authority higher than my own: — to the laws of my country, and 
my state, and my community, and to the will of my parents and 
teachers. 

I believe in the strength of union, in noble and lasting friendships, 
and the beauty and loyalty of love. 

I believe in truth and kindness, in the efficacy of education, in 
war when the cause is just and in love of peace at all times. 

I believe that it lies within my power, by being true to myself and 
to my principles, to help place the America of the future upon a 
higher pedestal than she has ever been before. 

I believe that the boys and girls of today shall become noble men 
and women of a great tomorrow, and that the American Nation 
shall stand first and foremost in the onward march of humanity. 

— Marion Frances Brown 
— 2Jd — 



A Creed For All 

1 . To respect my country, my profession, and myself. To be 
honest and fair with my fellow-men as I expect them to be honest 
and square with me. To be a loyal citizen of the United States 
of America. To speak of it with praise, and act as a trustworthy 
custodian of its good name. To be a man whose name carries 
weight wherever it goes. 

2. To base my expectations of a reward on a solid foundation 
of service rendered. To be willing to pay the price of success in 
honest effort. To look upon my work as an opportunity to be 
seized with joy and made the most of, and not as painful drudgery 
to be reluctantly endured. 

3. To remember that success lies within myself — my own brain, 
my own ambition, my own courage and determination. To expect 
difficulties and force my way thru them. To turn hard experience 
into capital for future use. 

4. To believe in my proposition. To carry an air of optimism 
in the presence of those I meet. To dispel ill-temper with cheer- 
fulness, kill doubts with a strong conviction, and reduce active 
friction with an agreeable personality. 

5. To make a study of my business. To know my profession 
in every detail. To mix brains with my efforts and use system and 
method in my work. To find time to do every needful thing by 
never letting time find me doing nothing. To hoard days as a miser 
hoards dollars. To make every hour bring me dividends, increased 
knowledge, or healthful recreation. 

6. To keep my future unmortgaged by debts. To save as well 
as to earn. To cut out expensive amusements until I can afford 
them. To steer clear of dissipation and guard my health of body 
and peace of mind as a precious stock in trade. 

7. Finally to take a good grip on the joys of life. To play the 
game like a man. To fight against nothing so hard as my own 
weaknesses, and endeavor to grow in strength, a gentleman, a 
Christian. 

So I may be courteous to man, faithful to friends, true to God, 
a fragrance in the path I tread. — Thomas Van Alstyne 



I expect to pass through this world but once. Any good thing, 
therefore, that I can do, or any kindness I can show, to any fellow 
human being, let me do it now. Let me not defer nor neglect it, 
for I shall not pass this way again. 

— 21 — 



"OTHERS" 

The Secret of a Happy Life 

Lord help me live from day to day 

In such a self- forgetful way 
That even when I kneel to pray 

My prayer shall be for — OTHERS. 

Help me in all the work I do 

To ever be sincere and true 
And know that all I'd do for you 

Must needs be done for — OTHERS. 

Let "Self" be crucified and slain 
And buried deep; and all in vain 

May efforts be to rise again 

Unless to live for— OTHERS. 

And when my work on earth is done 
And my new work in heaven's begun 

May I forget the crown I've won 
While thinking still of— OTHERS. 

Others, Lord, yes, others 

Let this my motto be, 
Help me to live for others 

That I may live like Thee. — C. D. Meigs 

By permission of Meigs Publishing Co. 



A Wish for Every Day 

Monday, I wish for eager feet, 

On errands of love to go ; 
Tuesday, I wish for a gentle voice, 

With a tone both soft and low; 
Wednesday, I wish for willing hands, 

Love's duties all to do; 
Thursday, I wish for open ears, 

Wise words to listen to; 
Friday, I wish for a smiling face, 

A brightener of home to be; 
Saturday, I wish for quickened eyes, 

God's beauty all to see; 
Sunday, I wish for a tranquil heart, 

That may to others joy impart. 
— 22 — 



What America Means 

What does America mean to ME? 
The Home of the Brave and the Land of the Free; 
The place of my birth and the sod of my sires, 
Blest Freedom's abode — and her altars and fires; 
The jewel of earth and the gem of the sea; 

And that's what America means to ME! 

What does America mean to ME? 
The nation that is and the nation to be; 
The realm where true manhood and womanhood meet, 
And gaze level-eyed — standing straight on their feet; 
Where no serf bows the head and no slave bends the knee: 

And that's what America means to ME! 

What does America mean to ME? 
The hearthstone of liberty, loyalty, see? 
One country, one people, one language, one aim, 
For peace and prosperity, honor and fame; 
Where reward is the lock and worth is the key: 

And that's what America means to ME! 

What does America mean to ME? 
A clime where the sky is the Flag of the Free; 
Where the red of the sunset, the white of the cloud, 
And the stars set in blue make a banner we're proud 
To see waving protection o'er land and o'er sea: 

And that's what America means to ME! 

— Used by Permission of the Author, James Ball Naylor 

Civil Creed for the Boys and Girls of America 

God hath made one blood all nations of men, and we are his 
children, brothers and sisters all. We are citizens of these United 
States and we believe our flag stands for self-sacrifice for the good 
of all the people. We want, therefore, to be true citizens of our 
great country and will show our love by our works. Our country 
does not ask us to die for her welfare only — she asks us to live for 
her, and so to live and so to act that her government may be pure, 
her officers honest, and every corner of her territory a place fit to 
grow the best men and women, who shall rule over her. 



Flowers are the sweetest things God ever made and forgot to put 
a SOul in. — Henry Ward Beecher 

— 23 — 



Scatter Seeds of Kindness 

If you have a friend worth loving, 
Love him. Yes, and let him know 

That you love him, ere life's evening 
Tinge his brow with sunset glow. 

Why should good words ne'er be said 

Of a friend — till he is dead? 

If you hear a song that thrills you, 

Sung by any child of song, 
Praise it. Do not let the singer 

Wait deserved praises long. 
Why should one who thrills your heart 
Lack the joy you may impart? 

If you hear a prayer that moves you 

By its humble, pleading tone, 
Join it. Do not let the seeker 

Bow before his God alone. 
Why should not your brother share 
The strength of "two or three" in prayer? 

If you see the hot tear* falling 

From a brother's eyes, 
Share them. And by kindly sharing 

Own your kinship in the skies 
Why should any one be glad 
When a brother's heart is sad? 

If a silvery laugh goes rippling 

Through the sunshine on his face, 

Share it. 'Tis the wise man's saying — 
For both grief and joy a place. 

There's health and goodness in the mirth 

In which an honest laugh has birth. 

If your work is made more easy 

By a friendly, helping hand, 
Say so. Speak out brave and truly 

Ere the darkness veil the land. 
Should a brother workman dear 
Falter for a word of cheer? 
— 24 — 



Scatter thus your seeds of kindness 

All enriching as you go — 
Leave them. Trust the Harvest-Giver; 

He will make each seed to grow. 
So, until the happy end, 
Your life shall never lack a friend. 

— Author Unknown 

"My Neighbor Jim" 

Everything pleased , my neighbor Jim, 

When it rained he never complained, 
But said wet weather suited him. 
"There's never too much rain for me, 
And this is something like," said he. 

When the earth was dry as a powder mill, 

He did not sigh because it was dry, 
But said, "If he could have his will, 
'Twould be his supreme delight 
To live where the sun shone day and night." 

When winter came, with its snow and ice, 

He did not scold because it was cold, 
But said, "Now this is real nice! 
If ever from home I'm bound to go, 
I'll move up north with the Esquimaux!" 

A cyclone whirled along its track, 

And did him harm: it broke his arm 
And stripped the coat from off his back. 
And "I would give another limb 
To see such a blow again," said Jim. 

And when at last his days were told, 

His body bent, and strength all spent, 
And Jim was growing weak and old, 
"I long have wanted to know," he said, 
''How it feels to die!" and Jim was dead! 

The angel of death had summoned him 
To heaven or — well, I cannot tell! 
But I know that the climate suited Jim, 
And cold or hot, it mattered not, 

It Was to him the long-SOUght spot. — Author Unknown 
— 25 — 



Now Be a Good Boy, Good-Bye 

How oft in my dreams I go back to the day, 

When I stood at the old wooden gate; 
And I started for school in full battle array, 

Armed with my primer and slate; 
And as the latch fell I thought myself free, 

And I gloried, I fear, on the sly; 
When I heard a kind voice that whispered to me : 

"Now be a good boy, good-bye." 

"Now be a good boy, good bye," it seems 

Has followed me all these years; 
It has always been in my pleasantest dreams, 

It so often has scattered my fears. 
It has stayed my feet on many a brink, 

Unseen by a blinded eye, 
For just in time I would stop and think: 

"Now be a good boy, good-bye." 

Now brother of mine, in the battle of life 

Just starting or nearing its close, 
This motto I give in the thick of the strife 

Will conquer wherever it goes. 
Mistakes you will make, for all of us err; 

But brother, just honestly try, 
And whatever you do or whatever occur 

"Just be a good boy, good-bye." 

— — Author Unknown 

What Sort of a Father Are You? 

What sort of a father are you to your boy? 

Do you know if your standing is good? 
Do you ever take stock of yourself and check up 

Your accounts with your boy as you should? 

Do you ever reflect on your conduct with him? 

Are you all that a father should be? 
Do you send him away when you're anxious to read? 

Or let him climb onto your knee? 

Is a book more important to you than his talk? 

Do you find that his chatter annoys? 
Would you rather be quiet than have him around? 

Do you send him away with his toys? 
— 26 — 



Have you time to bestow on the boy when he comes 
With his questions — to tell him the truth? 

Or do you neglect him and leave him alone 
To work out the problems of youth? 

Do you ever go walking with him hand in hand? 

Do you plan little outings for him? 
Does he ever look forward to romping with you, 

Or are you eternally grim? 

What memories pleasant of you will he have 

In the years that are certain to come? 
Will he look back on earth as a season of joy, 

Or an age that was woefully glum? 

Come, father, reflect! Does he know you today, 
And do you know him now as you should? 

Is gold so important to you that you leave 
It to chance that your boy will be good? 

Take stock of yourself and consider the lad; 

Your time and your thoughts are his due. 
How would you answer your God, should he ask, 

What sort of a father are you? — Author Unknown 



"Are You There?" 

I like to play close by my father's den, 

Where he's at work, and every now and then 

Ask: "Father, are you there?" He answers back: 

"Yes son." That time I broke my railroad track 

All into bits, he stopped his work and came 

And wiped my tears, and said: "Boy, boy! Be game!" 

And then he showed me how to fix it right, 

And I took both my arms and hugged him tight. 

Once when I'd asked him if he still was there, 
He called me in and rumpled up my hair, 
And said: "How much alike are you and I! 
When I feel just as boys feel, when they cry, 
I call to our big Father, to make sure 
That he is there, my childish dread to cure. 
And always, just as I to you, 'Yes son,' 
Our Father calls, and all my fret is done!" 

— Strickland Gillilan 
— 27 — 



Possession 

God gave me thee, nor all the world's alarms 
Shall take thee, sweet, one moment from my arms; 
He tuned our souls in unison divine, 
Through Time, Eternity, did name thee mine; 
Ne'er fear that anything on earth could make 
Me lose the heart that my own heart did wake. 

Thy heart is mine, and thy dear self I hold 
Within my arms, that close about thee fold; 
Nor let the tempests of the world come nigh, 
To waft across thy warm red lips one sigh ; 
With all my worldly love, I thee endow, 
We are no longer twain, but one; and now 

Give me thy lips, and all the world forget; 

Give me thine eyes that like twin stars are set 

Beneath the fragrant cloud of thy soft hair, 

Thine eyes, Dear Heart, that all the world calls fair; 

Not even knowing of the look that lies 

Within their depths, for me alone, nor never dies. 

1 — Author Unknown 

Life's Common Things 

The things of every day are all so sweet — 
The morning meadows wet with dew; 
The dance of daisies in the noon, the blue 
Of far-off hills where twilight shadows lie; 
The night with all its tender mystery of sound 
And silence, and God's starry sky! 
Oh! life — the whole of life — is far too fleet; 
The things of every day are all so sweet. 

The common things of life are all so dear; 

The waking in the warm half gloom 

To find again the old familiar room ; 

The scents and sights and sounds that never tire; 

The homely work, the plans, the lilt of baby's laugh ; 

The crackle of the open fire; 

Tke waiting, then the footsteps coming near, 

The open door, the handclasp and a kiss; 

Is Heaven not, after all, the Now and Here? 

The common things of life are all so dear. 

— Author Unknown 
— 28 — 



His New Brother 

Say, I've got a little brother, 
Never teased to have him, nother, 

But he's here; 
They just went ahead and bought him, 
And last week the doctor brought him; 

Wa'n't that queer? 

When I heard the news from Molly, 
Why! I thought at first 'twas jolly, 

'Cause ! you see : 
I s'posed I could go and get him, 
An' then Mamma 'course she would let him 

Play with me. 

But when I had once looked at him, 
"Why," I says, "my sakes! is that him? 

Just that mite?" 
They said "Yes," and "Ain't he cunnin'?" 
But, of course, they're only funnin', 

He's a sight! 

He's so small, it's jest amazin', 
And you'd think that he was blazin', 

He's so red; 
And his nose is like a berry, 
And he's bald as Uncle Jerry 

On the head. 

Why he isn't worth a dollar; 
All he does is cry and holler, 

More and more ; 
Won't sit up, you can't arrange him; 
I don't see why Pa don't change him 

At the store. 

Now we've got to dress and feed him 
And we really didn't need him 

More'n a frog; 
Wiiy'll they buy a baby brother 
When they know I'd a good deal ruther 

Have a dog? -^Author Unknown 

— 29 — - 



Gospel of Brotherhood 

I come to preach the text of love 

From the gospel of brotherhood; 
To help, if I may, in finding a way 

That leads to the highest good; 
To picture the light that is shining bright 

On the Future's upturned face; 
And to whisper a Hope whose breath and scope 

Is as wide as the human race. 

There are glimpses of glory in Paradise, 

But they all are not so bright, 
As our own dear earth will be, if we 

Can open the reign of right; 
If we, my brother, will love each other, 

And work as best we can, 
In the glorious labor of lifting our neighbor 

And helping our fellow man. — /. A. Edgerton 



A Solitary Way 

There is a mystery in human hearts, 
And though we be encircled by a host 
Of those who love us well, and are beloved, 
To every one of us, from time*to time, 
Our dearest friend is "stranger" to our joy, 
And cannot realize our bitterness. 

There is not one who really understands; 
Not one to enter into all I feel; 
Such is the cry of each of us in turn, 
We wander in "A Solitary Way;" 
No matter what or where our lot may be, 
Each heart, mysterious, even to itself, 
Must live its inner life in solitude. 

And would you know the reason why this is? 
It is because the Lord desires our love; 
In every heart He wishes to be first. 
He therefore keeps the secret key Himself, 
To open all its chambers and to bless 
With perfect sympathy and holy peace 
Each solitary soul which comes to Him. 
— 30 — 



So when we feel this loneliness, it is 

The voice of Jesus saying "Come to Me;" 

And every time we are "not understood 1 ," 

It is a call for us to come again; 

For Christ alone can satisfy the soul, 

And those who walk with Him from day to day 

Can never have "A Solitary Way." 

And when beneath some heavy cross you faint, 
And say, "I cannot bear this load alone," 
You say the truth; Christ made it purposely 
So heavy that you must return to Him. 
The bitter grief, which "no one understands," 
Conveys a secret message from the King, 
Entreating you to come to Him again. 

The Man of Sorrows understands it well ; 

In all points tempted, He can feel with you. 

You cannot come too often, or too near, 

The Son of God is infinite in grace. 

His presence satisfies the longing soul, 

And those who walk with Him from day to day 

Can never have "A Solitary Way." 

— Author Unknown 

Watch Yourself Go By 

Just stand aside and watch yourself go by ; 
Think of yourself as "he" instead of "I." 
Note closely, as in other men you note, 
The bag-knee trousers and the seedy coat. 
Pick flaws; find fault; forget the man is you, 
And try to make your estimate ring true; 
Confront yourself and look you in the eye, 
Just stand aside and watch yourself go by. 

Interpret your motives just as though 

You looked on one whose aims you did not know ; 

Let undisguised contempt surge through you when, 

You see you shrink, O commonest of men. 

Despise your cowardice, condemn whate'er 

You note of falseness anywhere; 

Defend not one defect that shames your eye — 

Just stand aside and watch yourself go by. 

— Author Vn^novn 
— 31 — 



Give Us Men 

Give us Men ! 
Men from every rank, 
Fresh and free and frank ; 
Men of thought and reading, 
Men of light and leading; 
Men of loyal breeding, 
The nation's welfare speeding; 
Men of faith and not of fiction, 
Men of lofty aim in action; 
Give us Men — I say again, 

Give us Men! 

Give us Men ! 
Strong and stalwart ones; 
Men whom highest hope inspires, 
Men whom purest honor fires, 
Men who trample self beneath them, 
Men who make their country wreath them 
As her noble sons, worthy of their sires! 
Men who never shame their mothers, 
Men who never fail their brothers, 
True, however false are others; 
Give us Men — I say again, 

Give us Men ! 

Give us Men ! 
Men, who when the tempest gathers, 
Grasp the standard of their fathers 
In the thickest fight: 
Men who strike for home and altar, 
Let the crowd cringe and falter, 
God defend the right! 
True as truth, though torn and lonely, 
Tender as the brave are only; 
Men who tread where saints have trod, 
Men for Country, Home, and God; 
Give us Men — I say again — again — 

Give US such Men! — B$ the Bishop of Exeter 



Look happy. Be happy, and pass it on. 
— 32 — 



Around The Corner 

Around the corner I have a friend 
In this great city that has no end, 
Yet days go by and weeks rush on 
And before I know it a year is gone, 
And I never see my old friend's face, 
For life is a swift and terrible race. 

He knows I like him just as well 

As in the days when I rang his bell 

And he rang mine — we were younger then — 

And now we are busy, tired men — 

Tired with playing a foolish game; 

Tired with trying to make a name. 

"Tomorrow," I say, "I will call on Jim, 
Just to show that I'm thinking of him." 
But tomorrow comes, and tomorrow goes; 
And the distance between us grows and grows. 
Around the corner! — yet mile away, 
"Here's a telegram, sir/' "Jim died today!" 

And that's what we get — and deserve in the end — 
Around the corner, a vanished friend. 

— By permission of the author, Charles Hanson Towne 



God Give Us Men 

God give us men. The time demands 

Strong minds, great hearts, true faith and willing hands; 

Men whom the lust of office does not kill; 
Men whom the spoils of office cannot buy; 

Men who possess opinions and a will; 
Men who have honor; men who will not lie; 

Men who can stand before a demagogue 
And damn his treacherous flatteries without winking; 

Tall men, sun-crowned, who live above the fog 
In public duty and in private thinking! 
For while the rabble with their thumb-worn creeds, 
Their large professions and their little deeds 
Mingle in selfish strife; lo! Freedom weeps! 
Wrong rules the land, and waiting Justice sleeps! 

— /. G. Holland 
— 33 — 



Love's Dream of Home 

I dreamed of Paradise — and still 
The sun lay soft on vale and hill ; 
The trees were green, the rivers bright, 
But the one dear thing that gave delight, 
By sun, or star, or Eden weather, 
Was just — that we two were together. 

I dreamed of Heaven, with God so near, 
The angels trod the shining sphere; 
And each was beautiful — the days 
Were choral work, were choral praise; 
And yet, in Heaven's fair, shining weather, 
The best was still — we were together. 

I woke, and lo! my dream was true — 

My happy dream of me and you; 

For Eden — Heaven, no need to roam; 

The foretaste of it all is home, 

Where you and I in this world's weather, 

Still toil, and trust, and love together. 

— Author Unknown 

Have Courage, My Boy, To Say No 

Written by a devoted mother lo htr son 

You're starting today on life's journey, 

Alone on the highway of life; 
You'll meet with a thousand temptations, 

Each city with evil is rife. 
This world is a stage of excitement, 

There's danger wherever you go, 
But if you are tempted in weakness, 

Have courage, my boy, to say no. 

The siren's sweet smile may allure you, 

Beware of her cunning and art; 
Whenever you see her approaching, 

Be guarded and haste to depart. 
The billiard saloons are inviting, 

Decked out in their tinsel and show; 
Should you be invited to enter, 

Have courage, my boy, to say no. 
— 34 — 



Be careful in choosing companions, 

Seek only the brave and the true; 
And stand by your friends when in trial, 

Ne'er changing the old for the new; 
And when by false friends you are tempted, 

The taste of the wine cup to know, 
With firmness, with patience and kindness, 

Have courage, my boy, to say no! 

The bright sparkling wine may be offered, 

No matter how tempting it be; 
From poison that stings like an adder, 

My boy, have the courage to flee. 
The gambling halls are before you, 

Their lights, how they dance to and fro; 
You may be invited to enter, 

Do have courage, my boy, to say no. 

In courage alone lies your safety, 

When you the long journey begin, 
And trust in your heavenly Father 

Will keep you unspotted from sin. 
Temptations will go on increasing, 

As streams from a rivulet flow, 
But if you are true to your manhood, 

You'll have courage, my boy, and say no. 



The Son of Rest 

If you stop to find out what your wages will be 
And how they will clothe and feed you, 

Willie, my son, don't you go on the sea 
For the sea will never need you. 

If you ask the reason of every command. 
And argue with people about you, 

Willie, my son, don't go on the land 

For the land will do better without you. 

If you stop to consider the work you have done 
And boast what your labor is worth, dear, 

Angels may come for you, Willie, my son, 
But you'll never be wanted on Earth, dear! 

— Kipling 
— 35 — 



Sweetest Things of Earth 

What are the sweetest things of earth? 

Lips that can praise a rival's worth; 

A fragrant rose that hides a thorn; 

Riches of gold untouched by scorn; 

A happy little child asleep; 

Eyes that can smile, though they may weep ; 

A brother's cheer, a father's praise, 

The minstrelsy of summer days; 

A heart where never anger burns; 

A gift that looks for no returns; 

Wrongs overthrown; pain's swift release; 

Dark footsteps guided into peace; 

The light of love in lover's eyes; 

Age that is young as well as wise; 

An honest hand that needs no ward; 

A life with right in true accord; 

A hope-bud waxing into joy; 

A happiness without alloy; 

A mother's kiss, a baby's mirth — 

These are the sweetest things of earth. 

— Emma C. Don>d 

The House by the Side of the Road 

There are hermit souls that live withdrawn 

In the peace of their self-content; 
There are souls, like stars, that dwell apart 

In a fellowless firmament; 
There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths 

Where the highways never ran — 
But let me live by the side of the road 

And be a friend to man. 

Let me live in a house by the side of the road, 

Where the race of men go by — 
The men who are good and the men who are bad, 

As good and as bad as I. 
I would not sit in the scorner's seat, 

Or hurl the cynic's ban — 
Let me live in a house by the side of the road, 

And be a friend to man. 
— 36 — 



I see from my house by the side of the road, 

By the side of the highway of life, 
The men who press with the ardor of hope, 

The men who are faint with the strife; 
But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears — 

Both parts of an infinite plan — 
Let me live in a house by the side of the road, 

And be a friend to man. 

I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead, 

And mountains of wearisome height; 
And the road passes on through the long afternoon, 

And stretches away to the night; 
But still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice, 

And weep with the strangers that moan, 
Nor live in my house by the side of the road 

Like a man who dwells alone. 

Let me live in my house by the side of the road, 

Where the race of men go by — 
They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong, 

Wise, foolish — so am I. 
Then why should I sit in the scorner's seat, 

Or hurl the cynic's ban? 
Let me live in a house by the side of the road, 

And be a friend to man. — Sam Walter Foss 



To My Son 

Do you know that your soul is of my soul such a part, 
That you seem to be fiber and core of my heart? 
None other can pain me as you, dear, can do; 
None other can please me or praise me as you. 

Remember the world will be quick with its blame, 
If shadow or stain ever darken your name; 
"Like mother, like son," is a saying so true, 
The world will judge largely of mother by you. 

Be yours, then, the task, if task it should be, 
To force the proud world to do homage to me; 
Be sure it will say when its verdict you've won, 
She reaped as she sowed, Lo! This is her son. 

— Margaret Johnstone Craflin 
— 37 — 



'The Fellow That Your Mother Thinks You Are" 

While walking down a crowded city street the other day 
I heard a little urchin to a comrade turn and say: 
"Say, Jimmie, let me tell yer, I'd be as happy as a clam, 
If I only was de feller dat me mudder t'inks I am. 

"She t'inks I am a wonder, and knows her little lad 
Would never mix wit' nottin dat was ugly, mean or bad; 
An' lots o' times I sit and t'ink how nice 't would be — gee whiz ! 
If a feller was de feller dat his mudder t'inks he is." 

So, folks, be yours a life of toil or undiluted joy, 
You still can learn a lesson from the small, unlettered boy; 
Don't try to be an earthly saint, with eyes fixed on a star — 
Just try to be the fellow that your mother thinks you are. 

— Author Unknown 

Let Me Walk with the Men in the Road 

'Tis only a half truth the poet has sung 

Of the "house by the side of the way;" 
Our Master had neither a house nor a home, 

But he walked with the crowd day by day. 
And I think when I read of the poet's desire, 

That a house by the road would be good; 
But service is found in the tenderest form 

When we walk with the crowd in the road. 

So I say, let me walk with the men in the road, 

Let me seek out the burdens that crush, 
Let me speak a kind word of good cheer to the weak 

Who are falling behind in the rush. 
There are wounds to be healed, there are breaks we must mend, 

There's a cup of cold water to give; 
And the man in the road by the side of his friend 

Is the man who has learned to live. 

Then tell me no more of the house by the road, 

There is only one place I can live; 
It's there with the men who are toiling along, 

Who are needing the cheer I can give. 
It is pleasant to live in the house by the way 

And be a friend, as the poet has said; 
But the Master is bidding us, "Bear ye their load, 

For your rest waiteth youder ahead." 

— 38 — 



I could not remain in the house by the road 

And watch as the toilers go on, 
Their faces beclouded with pain and with sin, 

So burdened, their strength nearly gone. 
I'll go to their side, I'll speak in good cheer, 

I'll help them to carry their load; 
And I'll smile at the man in the house by the way, 

As I walk with the crowd in the road. 

Out there in the road that goes by the house, 

Where the poet is singing his song, 
I'll walk and I'll work midst the heat of the day, 

And I'll help falling brothers along. 
Too busy to live in the house by the way, 

Too happy for such an abode; 
And my heart sings its praise to the Master of all, 

Who is helping me serve in the road. 

1 — i — Walter J. Cresham 

Do You Believe In Santa Claus? 

I still believe in Santa Claus! 

Though years and years have flown, 
Whene'er the Christmastide comes round 

I find I have not grown. 

I still believe in Santa Claus, 

More now than when a boy; 
Whene'er I see the Christmas toys 

My heart beats loud with joy. 

You tell me now that I'm a man, 

'Tis time for wiser things; 
I grant it all, and yet, child-like, 

I wait for what Love brings. 

And though I play the grown-up game 

And own my hair is gray, 
I believe there is a soul of Good 

That passes not away. 

Do you believe in Santa Claus? 

Of course, of course you do! 
Faith, Hope and Love, they still abide 

In that big heart of you. — Henry Victor Morgan 
— 39 — 



When I Get Time 

When I get time 
I'll turn life's page anew, 

And do the things that God would have me do. 
I'll clothe the naked, aid the sick and poor, 
None in distress will I turn from my door; 
I'll dry the orphan's tears, 
The widow aid, who all these weary years 
Has struggled on, baffled by hopes and fears — 

When I get time. 

When I get time 
I'll love my fellow man, 
To make the world more bright do all I can. 
I'll then have means to live an upright life, 
And I can lay aside all toil and strife; 
My work and toil shall cease, 
No more I'll count my gain or gold's increase, 
From all this moil and din I'll rest in peace — 

When I get time. 

When I get time 
I'll lay up treasures, where 
There is no rust but all is bright and fair. 
I, who to God have seldom breathed a prayer, 
For all his kindness, all his tender care, 
I'll be a stranger there. 

I, who for years have fought in greed's mad race, 
Must go alone and meet him face to face. 
I wonder what I'll do in that strange place — 

When I get time. 

When I get time 
Some day I'll fold my hands; 
I'll cease this struggle then for fame and lands. 
The same extent of land will fill my need, 
As those for others lived and not for greed; 
Or those who toiled for bread. 
There, until land and sea give up their dead, 
Low in the grave I'll rest my weary head — 

When I get time. —Cyrene E. Morris 

— 40 — 



Two Lovers 

Two lovers sat by a moss-grown spring: 
They leaned soft cheeks together there, 
Mingled the dark and sunny hair, 
And heard the wooing thrushes sing. 
O budding time! 
O love's best prime! 

Two wedded from the portal stept; 
The bells made happy carolings, 
The air was soft as fanning wings, 
White petals on the pathway swept. 
O pure-eyed bride! 
• O tender bride. 

Two faces o'er a cradle bent; 

Two hands above the head were locked; 
These pressed each other while they rocked; 
These watched a life that love had sent. 
O solemn hour! 
O hidden power! 

Two parents by the evening lire; 
The red light fell about their knees 
On heads that rose by slow degrees 
Like buds upon the lily spire. 
O patient life! 
O tender strife! 

The two still sat together there; 

The red light shone about their knees, 
But all the heads by slow degrees 
Had gone and left the lonely pair. 
O voyage fast! 
O vanished past! 

The red light shone about the floor 

And made the space between them wide ; 
They drew their chairs up side by side, 

Their pale cheeks joined and said once more: 
O memories ! 

O past that is! —George Eliot 

— 41 — 



Happiest Days 

I said to the little children, 

"You are living your happiest days!" 
And their wide eyes opened wider 

In innocent amaze; 
For their happiness was so perfect, 

They did not know it then, 
"Oh, no!" they said, "there'll be happier days 

When we are women and men." 

I said to the youth and maiden, 

"You are living your happiest days;" 
And into their sparkling eyes there crept 

A dreamy, far-off gaze; ^ 

And their hands sought one another, 

And their cheeks flushed rosy red; 
"Oh, no!" they said, "there'll be happier days 

For us when we are wed." 

I said to the man and woman, 

"You are living your happiest days;" 
As they laughingly watched together 

Their baby's cunning ways. 
"These days are days of labor; 

They can hardly be our best; 
There'll be happier days when our children are grown, 

And we have earned our rest." 

I said to the aged couple, 

**You are living your happiest days; 
Your children do you honor; 

You have won success and praise." 
With a peaceful look they answered, 

"God is good to us, that's true; 
But we think there'll be happier days for us 

In the life we are going to." — Author Unknown 



They might not need me; but they might. 
I'll let my head be just in sight; 
A smile as small as mine might be 
Precisely their necessity. — Emily Dickinson 
— 42 — 



We Go This Way But Once 

We go this way but once, O heart of mine, 

So why not make the journey well worth while, 

Giving to those who travel on with us 

A helping hand, a word of cheer, a smile ? 

We go this way but once. Ah, never more 
Can we go back along the selfsame way. 

To get more out of life, undo the wrongs, 

Or speak love's words we knew but did not say. 

■4 

We go this way but once. Then let us make 
The road we travel blossomy and sweet 

With helpful, kindly deeds and tender words, 

Smoothing the path of bruised and stumbling feet. 

— Author Unknown 

I Shall Not Pass This Way 

I want to give to others joy for tears, 

The faith to conquer crowding doubts and fears, 

Beauty for ashes may I give always, 

For I am sure that I shall not pass again this way. 

I want to give good measure running o'er, 
And into angry hearts I want to pour 
The answer soft that turneth wrath away, 
For I am sure that I shall not pass again this way. 

I want to give to others hope and faith, 
I want to do all that the Master sayeth, 
I want to live aright from day to day, 
For I am sure that I shall not pass again this way. 

— Author Unknown 

In life — not death — 

Hearts need fond words to help them on their way; 

Need tender thoughts and gentle sympathy. 

Caresses, pleasant looks, to cheer each passing day. 

Then hoard them not until they useless be; 

In life — not death, 

Speak kindly, living hearts need sympathy. 

— /. R. Miller 

The glory of life is to love, not to be loved; 
to give, not to get; to serve, not to be served. 
_43 — 



Sometime, Somewhere 

You gave on the way a pleasant smile, 

And thought no more about it; 
It cheered a life that had been dark the while 

Which might have wrecked without it; 
And for that smile and fruitage rare, 
You'll reap a crown sometime — somewhere. 

You spoke one day a cheering word, 

And passed to other duties ; 
It cheered a heart; new promise stirred, 

And painted a life with beauties; 
And so for that word of golden cheer, 
You'll reap a talent sometime — somewhere. 

You lent a hand to a fallen one, 

A life in goodness given; 
You saved a soul when help was rare, 

And won an honest heart forever; 
And so, for that help you proffered there, 
Kind friend, you'll reap a joy — sometime — somewhere. 
1 — Author Unknown 

Some Day 

Some day an angel to my bed shall steal, 
To stamp upon mine eyes Death's sacred seal, 

And bear my soul away, 
Out of this narrow world, to one more fair, 
My soul's dream-world, its heavenly bliss to share, 

Forever and for aye. 

My Dear ! on nights when fond love's memory dreams, 
Note well the star which fairest, brightest seems, 

Unto thy tear-dimmed eyes, 
Then, in thy loveful dreaming, dream of me; 
Maybe — why not? Thy dreaming soul will see, 

My dream-world in the skies! 

In yon star-bright, luminous, heavenly plain, 
I feel our parted souls shall meet again, 

Forever and for aye, 
When that same angel, who once came for me, 
Out of my dream-star, shall have come for thee, 

Some day, dear Heart, some day. — Author Unknown 
— 44 — 



Sometime, Somewhere 

Unanswered yet? the prayer your lips have pleaded 

In agony of heart these many years? 
Does faith begin to fail? Is hope departing? 

And think you all in vain those falling tears? 
Say not the Father hath not heard your prayer; 
You shall have your desire, sometime, somewhere. 

Unanswered yet? though when you first presented 
This one petition at the Father's throne, 

It seemed you could not wait the time of asking, 
So urgent was your heart to make it known. 

Though years have passed since then, do not despair; 

The Lord will answer you sometime, somewhere. 

Unanswered yet? nay, do not say ungranted, 
Perhaps your part is not yet wholly done; 

The work began when first your prayer was uttered, 
And God will finish what he has begun. 

If you but keep the incense burning there, 

His glory you shall see, sometime, somewhere. 

Unanswered yet? Faith cannot be unanswered; 

Her feet are firmly planted on the rock, 
Amid the wildest storms she stands undaunted, 

Nor quails before the loudest thunder shock, 
She knows Omnipotence hath heard her prayer, 
And cries, "It shall be done, sometime, somewhere." 

— Ophelia Browning 

Benjamin Franklin's Toast 

At the conclusion of the war, Dr. Franklin, the English Ambassa- 
dor, and the French Minister were dining together at Versailles, and 
a toast from each was called for, and agreed to. The British 
Minister began with: "George the Third, who, like the sun in his 
meridian, spreads a luster throughout, and enlightens the world." 
The French Minister followed with: "The illustrious Louis XVI, 
who, like the moon, sheds its mild and benignant rays on, and in- 
fluences the globe." Our American Franklin then gave: "George 
Washington, Commander of the American armies; who, like Joshua 
of old, commanded the sun and the moon to stand still, and they 
obeyed him." 

— 45 — 



What Would You Take? 

What would you take for that soft little head 
Pressed close to your face at time for bed; 
For that white, dimpled hand in your own held tight, 
And the dear little eyelids kissed down for the night? 
What would you take? 

What would you take for that smile in the morn, 
Those bright, dancing eyes and the face they adorn ; 
For the sweet little voice that you hear all day, 
Laughing and cooing — yet nothing to say? 
What would you take? 

What would you take for those pink little feet, 
Those chubby round cheeks, and that mouth so sweet; 
For the wee tiny fingers and little soft toes , 
The wrinkly little neck and that funny little nose? 

Now, what Would you take? —Author Unknown 



Make Childhood Sweet 

Wait not till the little hands are at rest 
Ere you fill them full of flowers; 

Wait not for the crowning tuberose 
To make sweet the last sad hours; 

But while in the busy household band 

Your darlings still need your guiding hand; 
Oh fill their lives with sweetness! 

Wait not till the little hearts are still 

For the loving look of praise; 
But while you gently chide a fault, 

The good deed kindly praise; 
The word you speak beside the bier 
Falls sweeter far on the living ear; 

Oh fill young lives with sweetness! 

Ah, what are kisses on clay-cold lips 

To the rosy mouth we press, 
When our wee one flies to her mother's arms 

For love's tenderest caress! 
Let never a worldly babble keep 
Your heart from the joy each day should reap, 

Circling young lives with sweetness. 
— 46 — 



Give thanks each morn for the sturdy boys, 

Give thanks for the fairy girls; 
With a dower of wealth like this at home, 

Would you rifle the earth for pearls? 
Wait not for Death to gem Love's crown, 
But daily shower life's blessings down, 

And fill young hearts with sweetness. 

Remember the homes where the light has fled, 

Where the rose has faded away 
And the love that glows in youthful hearts, 

Oh, cherish it while you may ! 
And make your home a garden of flowers, 
Where joy shall bloom through childhood's hours, 

And fill young hearts with sweetness. —Author Unknown 



Send Them to Bed With a Kiss 

O mothers, so weary discouraged, 

Worn out with the cares of the day, 
You often grow cross and impatient, 

Complain of the noise and the play; 
For the day brings so many vexations , 

So many things going amiss; 
But mothers, whatever may vex you, 

Send the children to bed with a kiss! 

The dear little feet wander often, 

Perhaps from the pathway of right, 
The dear little hands find new mischief 

To try you from morning till night; 
But think of the desolate mothers 

Who'd give all the world for your bliss, 
And, as thanks for your infinite blessings, 

Send the children to bed with a kiss! 
For some day their noise will not vex you, 

The silence will hurt you far more; 
You will long for their sweet childish voices, 

For a sweet childish face at the door; 
And to press a child's face to your bosom, 

You'd give all the world for just this! 
For the comfort 'twill bring you in sorrow, 

Send the children to bed with a kiss! 

— Author Unknown 
— W — 



Do It Now 

If you have hard work to do, 

Do it now. 
Today the skies are clear and blue, 
Tomorrow clouds may come in view, 
Yesterday is not for you; 

Do it now. 

If you have a song to sing, 

Sing it now. 
Let the notes of gladness ring 
Clear as song of bird in Spring, 
Let every day some music bring; 

Sing it now. 

If you have kind words to say, 

Say them now. 
Tomorrow may not come your way, 
Do a kindness while you may, 
Loved ones will not always stay; 

Say them now. 

If you have a smile to show, 

Show it now. 
Make hearts happy, roses grow, 
Let the friends around you know, 
The love you have before they go; 

Show it now. — Author Unknown 



The Man Behind the Smile 

I don't know how he is on creeds, 

I never heard him say; 
But he's got a smile that fits his face 

And he wears it every day. 

If things go wrong he won't complain, 
Just tries to see the joke — 

He's always finding little ways 
Of helping other folk. 

He sees the good in every one, 
Their faults he never mentions; 

He has a lot of confidence 
In people's good intentions. 
— 48 — 



You soon forget what ails you, 

When you happen 'round this man ; 

He can cure a case of hypo — 
Quicker than the doctor can. 

No matter if the sky is gray, 

You get his point of view, 
And the clouds begin to scatter 

And the sun comes breaking through. 

You'll know him if you meet him, 
And you'll find it worth your while, 

To cultivate the friendship 

Of the Man Behind the Smile. 

1 — Author t/n^nonm 

An Invitation 

If I knew you and you knew me, 
How little trouble there would be! 
We pass each other on the street, 
But just come out and let us meet 
At church next Sunday. 

Each one intends to do what's fair, 
And treat his neighbor on the square; 
But he may not quite understand 
Why you don't take him by the hand 
At church next Sunday. 

This world is sure a busy place, 
And we must hustle in the race; 
For social hours some are not free 
The six week days, but all should be 
At church next Sunday. 

We have an interest in our town, 
The dear old place must not go down; 
We want to push good things along, 
And we can help some if we're strong 
At church next Sunday. 

Don't knock and kick and slam and slap 
At everybody on the map, 
But push and pull and boost and boom, 
And use up all the standing room 

At church next Sunday. — C. A. Reagan 
— 49 — 



After School 

O mother, can't I have some cake? 

Can't Johnny have some pie? 
Can't we come in — just us — and take 

An apple by and by, 
If we both wipe our feet off clean 

The way you told us to? 
And if we run across Bill Green 

Can't Billy have one, too? 

O mother have you seen my hat, 

The one I wear to play? 
And, say, Ma, where'd I put my bat 

And ball the other day? 
Can't Johnnie wear my other shoes 

Till his own pair gets dry? 
Do you care, mother, if we use 

Your old broom by and by? 

We want to use the broom to sweep 

The home plate off, you see. 
And, mother, we want you to keep 

Our things for John and me 
So we won't lose them when we play; 

Our knife and marbles, too — 
Won't you please put them all away 

Just as you always do? 

If Billy Green should come and knock 

At the back kitchen door 
Tell him we're in the vacant block 

Right next to Johnson's store. 
And let him have my other shoes — 

My old ones — so's to play; 
He can't play barefoot or we'll lose; 

He's got to pitch today. 

And would you care if Johnnie came 
To supper when "we're through? 

If Bill should pitch a dandy game 
Can't I bring Kim home too? 
— 50 — 



If Bill comes to the kitchen door 

Won't you give him some pie, 
So he'll be strong and curve 'em more? 

Thanks, ma! Good-by! Good-by! 

— Author Uru\non>n 

If I knew you and you knew me, 
'Tis seldom we would disagree; 
But, never having yet clasped hands, 
Both often fail to understand. 
That each intends to do what's right 
And treat each other "honor bright;" 
How little to complain there'd be, 
If I knew you and you knew me. 



It Often Happens 

Oh, say can you sing from the start to the end, 

What so proudly you stand for when the orchestras play it; 
When the whole congregation, in voices that blend, 

Strike up the grand hymn and then torture and slay it? 
How they bellow and shout when they're first starting out, 
But "the dawn's early light" finds them floundering about. 
'Tis "The Star Spangled Banner" they're trying to sing, 
But they don't know the words. of the precious old thing. 

Hark! The "twilight's last gleaming" has some of them stopped, 

But the valiant survivors press forward serenely 
To "the ramparts we watched," where some others are dropped 
And the loss of the leaders is manifest keenly ; 
Then "the rockets' red glare" give the bravest a scare 
And there's a few left to face the "bombs bursting in air." 
Tis a thin line of heroes that manage to save 
The last of the verse and "the home of the brave." 

— Author Unknown 

Words Left Unsaid 

The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and 
deeds left undone. "She never knew how I loved her!" "He never 
knew what he was to me!" "I always meant to make more of our 
friendship." "I did not know what he was to me until he was 
gone!" Such words are the poisoned arrows which cruel death 
shoots backward at us from the door of the sepulchre. 

— Harriet Beecher Stowc 
-51- 



After School 

When home from school's long day he drifts 
And to my gaze his fresh face lifts, 
I read the tale of all the joys 
And sorrows that are every boy's. 
I knew them once — I feel them yet, 
Through later living's deeper fret. 
But still I hold him close, and say 
"Son tell me all about your day." 

He tells me — whimpering o'er each grief, 
And laughing next in swift relief: 
The big, bad boy who hid his hat; 
The girl who slipped from where she sat, 
To meet the teacher's well-earned frown; 
And how the littlest boy fell down! 
I list — not that I do not know, 
But only that I love him so. 

When, at life's troublous school day's close, 
Each world-worn pupil homeward goes, 
Straight to the Father's eyes we'll raise 
Our own, prepared for blame or praise. 
He'll slip an arm around, and say: 
"Child, tell me all about your day." 
Not that Our Father does not know, 

But only that He loves US SO. — Strickland Gillilan 



Tell Your Gratitude 

It isn't the thinking how grateful we are 
For the kindness of friends come to bless 

Our sorrow or loss 'neath the weight of the Cross ; 
It is telling our gratefulness. 

It isn't the love that they have in their heart 

And neglect or forget to reveal, 
That brightens the lives of husbands and wives; 

It is telling the love that they feel. 

It isn't the thinking of good to mankind 

That comes as a cooling drink 
To the famishing one of Earth's daughters and sons; 

It is telling the good that we think. 
— 52 — 



It isn't the music, asleep in the strings 

Of the lute, that entrances the ear, 
And brings to the breast, the spirit of rest; 

It is only the music we hear. 

It isn't the lilies we hide from the world, 

Nor the roses we keep as our own, 
That are strewn at our feet by the angels we meet 

On the way to the Great White Throne. 

It isn't the silence of hope unexpressed 
That heartens and strengthens the weak 

To triumph through strife for the good things of life; 
It's the words of good cheer that we speak. 

1 — W . J. Lampion 

Sundown 

When the wounded in hospital came to die said a 
British officer, their last request in many cases rvas 
for the prayer, "Now I lay me down to sleep." 

When my sun of life is low, 

When the dewy shadows creep, 
Say for me before I go, 

"Now I lay me down to sleep." 

I am at the journey's end, 

I have sown and I must reap; 
There are no more ways to mend — 

Now I lay me down to sleep. 

Nothing more to doubt or dare, 

Nothing more to give or keep; 
Say for me the children's prayer, \ 

"Now I lay me down to sleep." 

Who has learned along the way — 

Primrose path or stony steep — 
More of wisdom than to say, 

"Now I lay me down to sleep." 

What have you more wise to tell 

When the shadows round me creep? . . . 
All is over, all is well 

Now I lay me down to sleep. 

By permission of Emma B. Taylor — Bert Leston Taylor 
— 53 



Roosevelt's Favorite Poem 

Out of the night that covers me, 
Black as the pit from pole to pole, 

I thank whatever gods may be 
For my unconquerable soul. 

In the fell clutch of circumstance 

I have not winced nor cried aloud; 

Under the bludgeonings of chance 
My head is bleeding but unbowed. 

Beyond this place of wrath and tears 
Looms but the horror of the shade, 

And yet the menace of the years 
Finds and shall find me unafraid. 

It matters not how straight the gate, 

How charged with punishment the scroll ; 

I am the master of my fate — 
I am the captain of my soul. 



Pluck Your Roses When You Can 

But yesterday a rose full blown 
Smiled sweetly at me as I passed; 

I would have plucked it for my own, 
But for the thought: Its charms will last. 

Tomorrow I shall pass this way, 
And I shall pause a moment then 

And yonder rose shall cheer my day, 
And make me happy among men. 

Today bowed down with grief and care, 
I wandered forth to seek the bloom, 

And found it dead and withered there, 
Shorn of its beauty and perfume. 

Rush not so heedless on your way; 

Stop your mad haste, oh foolish man; 
Earth's pleasures for you will not stay; 

So pluck your roses when you can. 

— Author Unknown 

We can sing away our cares easier than we can reason them away. 

— Beecher 
— 54 — 



Trees 

A most charming nature poem 

I think that I shall never see 
A poem lovely as a tree. 

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest 
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast. 

A tree that looks to God all day 
And lifts her leafy arms to pray. 

A tree that may in summer wear 
A nest of robins in her hair; 

Upon whose bosom snow has lain; 
Who intimately lives with rain. 

Poems are made by fools like me, 
But only God can make a tree. 

— Joyce Kilmer 

Life's Mirror 

There are loyal hearts, there are spirits brave, 
There are souls that are pure and true; 
Then give to the world the best you have, 
And the best will come back to you. 

Give love, and love to your life will flow, 
A strength in your utmost need; 
Have faith, and a score of hearts will show 
Their faith in your word and deed. 

Give truth, and your gift will be paid in kind, 
And honor will honor meet; 
And a smile that is sweet will surely find 
A smile that is just as sweet. 

Give pity and sorrow to those who mourn; 
You will gather in flowers again 
The scattered seeds from your thought outborne, 
Though the sowing seemed but vain. 

For life is the mirror of king and slave; 
'Tis just what we are and do; 
Then give to the world the best you have, 
And the best will come back to you. 

— Madeline S. Bridges 
By permission of Miss Ada DeVere, Owner of Copyright 
— 55 — 



Watch the Corners 

When you wake up in the morning of a chill and cheerless day, 

And feel inclined to grumble, pout or frown, 
Just glance into your mirror and you will quickly see 
It's just because the corners of your mouth turn down. 
Then take this simple rhyme, 
Remember it in time: 
It's always dreary weather, in countryside or town, 
When you wake and find the corners of your mouth turned down. 

If you wake up in the morning full of bright and happy thoughts 

And begin to count the blessings in your cup, 
Then glance into your mirror and you will quickly see 
It's all because the corners of your mouth turn up. 
Then take this little rhyme, 
Remember all the time: 
There's joy a-plenty in this world to fill life's silver cup 
If you'll only keep the corners of your mouth turned up. 

By permission of Youth's Companion and the author Lulu Linton 



Jack and Jill 

O' course it's lots o' trouble to bring up the kiddies right — 
To teach 'em to be kind and good, and not to swear and fight, 
An' sometimes when I'm tired out with all their noise and mirth, 
I wonder if it ain't, perhaps, more trouble than it's worth; 
But always at the worst o' times, there's certain to befall 
Somethin' to make me glad that I am their daddy after all. 

Last week I got impatient, and I guess I stewed an' swore, 

An' wished I had no kids, an' was a care- free bachelor; 

Then came the news that Jack, my second child, had tumbled down 

The hill acrost the way, and broke his little curly crown; 

An' Jill, my third, had tumbled after him, like sisters will — 

No matter what he does, Jack can't get much ahead of Jill! 

His mother soon had plastered up that curly crown o' his— — 

(I always claim that mother love's the greatest thing there is!) 

But since that time I've tried to be more patient with my boys 

An' girls, and not to fuss about their prattle and their noise. 

I've been a better father, since the children had that fall, 

An' I am glad — yes, glad! — that I'm their daddy, after all. 

— Ted Robinson 
— 56 — 



Morning Prayer 

Now I get me up to work, 

I pray the Lord I may not shirk; 

If I should die before tonight, 

I pray the Lord my work's all right. 



So Little Makes Us Glad 

So little makes us glad, so glad, 
One whispered word in fondness clad; 
The simple look we understand, 
Warm, sympathetic clasp of hand. 

A proffered help in time of need, 

Unto our woe a gentle heed; 

Dear promise kept despite the wear 

Of months and years deep-fraught with care. 

A bit of praise or of complaint, 
A flower in sweet remembrance sent; 
The letter we did not expect, 
Some tender token of respect. 

So little makes us sad, so sad, 
The shattering of a dream we had; 
A favor asked forgotten quite 
Meant or unmeant the trivial slight. 

The censure and the stinging chide 
When we our very best have tried ; 
The wrong construction harshly placed 
On acts love — only love — had traced. 

Why, why, O friends, do we withhold 
The best of life? Why be so cold? 
So little makes us glad, so glad, — 
So little makes us sad, so sad! 

— Author Unknown 

We can never be too careful 

What seeds our hands may sow; 
Love from love is sure to ripen, 

Hate from hate is sure to grow. 
— 57 — 



Recipe For a Happy New Year 

Take twelve fine, full-grown months ; see that these are thoroughly 
free from all old memories of bitterness, rancor, hate and jealousy; 
cleanse them completely from every clinging spite; pick off all specks 
of pettiness and littleness; in short, see that these months are freed from 
all the past — have them as fresh and clean as when they first came 
from the great storehouse of Time. 

Cut these months into thirty or thirty-one equal parts. This batch 
will keep for just one year. Do not attempt to make up the whole 
batch at one time (so many persons spoil the entire lot in this way), 
but prepare one day at a time, as follows: 

Into each day put twelve parts of faith, eleven of patience, ten of 
courage, nine of work (some people omit this ingredient and so spoil 
the flavor of the rest) , eight of hope, seven of fidelity, six of liberality, 
five of kindness; four of rest (leaving this out is like leaving the oil 
out of the salad — don't do it), three of prayer, two of meditation, 
and one well-selected resolution. If you have no conscientious scru- 
ples, put in a teaspoonful of good spirits, a dash of fun, a pinch of 
folly, a sprinkling of play, and a heaping cupful of good humor. 

Pour into the whole love ad libitum and mix with a vim. Cook 
thoroughly in a fervent heat; garnish with a few smiles and a sprig 
of joy; then serve with quietness, unselfishness, and cheerfulness, and 
a Happy New Year is a certainty. — Author Unknown 



Water 

Sweet, beautiful water — brewed in the running brook, the rippling 
fountain and the laughing rill — in the limpid cascade, a? it joyfuFy leaps 
down the side of the mountain. Brewed in yonder mountain top, whose 
[granite peak glitters like gold bathed in the morning sun — brewed in 
the sparkling dewdrop; sweet, beautiful water — brewed in the crested 
wave of the ocean deeps, driven by the storm, breathing its terrible an- 
them to the God of the sea — brewed in the fleecy foam and the whi- 
tened spray as it hangs like a speck over the distant cataract — brewed 
in the clouds of Heaven; sweet, beautiful water! As it sings in the 
rain shower and dances in the hailstorm — as it comes sweeping down 
in feathery flakes, clothing the earth in a spotless mantel of white. 
Distilled in the golden tissues that paint the western sky at the setting 
of the sun, and the silvery tissues that veil the midnight moon — sweet, 
health-giving, beautiful Water! Distilled in the rainbow of promise, 
whose warp is the raindrops of Earth, and whose woof is the sunbeam 
of Heaven — sweet, beautiful water. — John B. Cough 

— 58 — 



Water 

John B. Gough, famous lecturer, would pour water into a glass, 
hold it in his hand and close his oration as follows: 

"Look at that, ye thirsty one of earth! Behold it! See its 
purity! How it glitters, as if a mess of liquid gems! It is the 
beverage that was brewed by the hand of the Almighty himself. 
Not in the simmering still of smoking fires, choked with poisonous 
gases and surrounded by the stench of sickening odors and rank 
corruption, doth our Father in heaven prepare the precious essence of 
life, the pure, cold water; but in the green glade and grassy dell, 
where the red deer wanders and the child loves to play — there God 
brews it. And down, down in the deepest valleys, where the foun- 
tains murmur and the rills sing; and high upon the tall mountain tops, 
where the native granite glitters like gold in the sun, where the storm 
clouds brood and the thunders crash; and away, far out on the wide 
sea, where the hurricanes howl music and the big waves roll the 
chorus heralding the march of God — there he brews it, that beveiage 
of life, health-giving water. And everywhere it is a thing of beauty, 
gleaming in the dewdrop, singing in the summer rain, shining in the 
ice-gem, till the trees all seem turned into living jewels, spreading a 
golden veil over the setting sun or white gauze around the midnight 
moon, sporting in the cataract, sleeping in the glacier, dancing in the 
hail shower, folding its bright curtain softly about the wintry world 
and weaving the merry-colored iris, that seraphs zone of the skies, 
whose warp is the rain of earth, whose woof is the sunbeam of 
heaven, all checkered o'er with celestial flowers by the mystic band 
of rarefaction — still always it is beautiful, that blessed life water! 
No poison bubbles on its brink, its foam brings no sadness or murder, 
no blood stains in its limpid glass. Broken-hearted wives, pale 
widows and starving orphans shed no tears in its depths. No drunk- 
ard's shrieking ghost from the grave curses it in words of eternal 
despair. Beautiful, pure, blessed and glorious. Give me forever 
the sparkling, pure, cold water." — Judge A. W. Arrington 



There are people who live near Science and never know it; in the 
midst of Culture and never have it; close to Religion and never 
imbibe it; by the side of Nature and still are strangers to her beauty. 
They are incapable of concentration necessary to grasp a theme and 
become enthusiastic over it, and thus they live by the side of Happiness 
and never taste, it. — Elbert Hubbard 

— 59 — 



Lost — A Thrill 

We sit and hold hands, my beloved and I, 
And earnestly, puzzledly, prayerfully try 
To figure just why, thirty seasons ago, 
This same little stunt used to tickle us so. 
Why then, if my hand touched her one little finger, 
And showed any tendency near it to linger, 
Our blood began pounding away in our veins 
And all the intelligence oozed from our brains. 

But now we may take hold of hands all we please 

And sit at our comfy, old, middle-aged ease, 

While all the effect that we both can discern 

Is sweat in our palms — not a thrill nor a yearn! 

The hands are the same; she is she, I am I, 

God knows we've more sense, as the years have come by. 

But yet our two hands we can thoroughly mingle 

With never a tremble or quiver or tingle! 

Yet times have not changed; for I notice the damsels 
Who flock with the boys — all the laddies and mamselles — 
Are fond as were we of this holding of hands; 
It seems to obtain in all climates and lands. 
So lovely and I are as puzzled as Punch 
To note how we've changed. I've a sort of a hunch 
That when these new youngsters grow old as we've done, 
They'll say, "How could hand-holding ever be fun?" 

— — Strickland Cillilan 

Johnny's Philosophy 

Johnny had told a falsehood, and his mother was anxiously talking 
with him. 

"The Bible says, Johnny, that no one who tells lies can go to 
heaven." 

"Mamma," he asked, "did you ever tell a lie?" 

"I dare say I did, my son, when I was very small like you, and 
did not realize how wicked it was." 

"Did papa ever tell a lie?" 

"Perhaps he might, when he was a little boy; but he would not 
do it now." 

"Well," remarked the young philosopher, "I don't know as I care 
about going to heaven, if there isn't going to be anybody there but 
God and George Washington." 

— 60 — 



Family Financiering 

"They tell me you work for a dollar a day ; 
How is it you clothe your six boys on such pay?" 

"I know you will think it conceited and queer, 
But I do it because I'm a good financier. 

"There's Pete, John, Jim and Joe and William and Ned, 
A half-dozen boys to be clothed up and fed. 

"And I buy for them all good plain victuals to eat, 
And clothing — I only buy clothing for Pete. 

"When Pete's clothes are too small for him to go on, 
My wife makes 'em over and gives them to John. 

"When for John, who is ten, they have grown out of date, 
She just makes 'em over for Jim, who is eight. 

"When for Jim they become too ragged to fix, 
She just makes 'em over for Joe, who is six. 

"And when little Joseph can't wear them no more, 
She just makes 'em over for Bill, who is four. 

"And when for young Bill they no longer will do, 
She just makes 'em over for Ned, who is two. 

"So you see, if I get enough clothing for Pete, 
The family is furnished with clothing complete." 

"But when Ned gets through with the clothing, and when 
He has thrown it aside, what do you do with it then?" 

"Why, once more we go around the circle complete, 
And begin to use it for patches for Pete." 

' — Author Unknown 

Thank God Every Morning 

Thank God every morning when you get up that you have some- 
thing to do that day which must be done, whether you like it or not. 
Being forced to work, and forced to do your best, will breed in you 
temperance and self-control, diligence and strength of will, cheer- 
fulness and content, and a hundred virtues which the idle never know. 

— Charles Kingsle} 
— 61 — 



A Tribute to the Dog 

One of the most beautiful tributes ever paid a dumb animal came 
from the lips of the late Senator George Graham Vest. The occasion 
was a trial over the killing of a dog, which was held in a Missouri 
town when he was a young lawyer. 

Senator Vest appeared for the plaintiff, while Senator Francis M. 
Cockrell, then a country practitioner, represented the defendant. 

Young Vest took no interest in the testimony and made no notes, 
but at the close of the case arose, and, in a soft voice, made the 
following address: 

"Gentlemen of the Jury — The best friend a man has in the world 
may turn against him, and become his enemy. His son or daughter 
that he has reared with loving care may prove ungrateful. Those 
who are nearest and dearest to us, those whom we trust with our 
happiness and our good name, may become traitors to their faith. 
The money that a man' has, he may lose. It flies away from him, 
perhaps when he needs it most. A man's reputation may be sacrificed 
in a moment of ill-considered action.' The people who are prone to 
fall on their knees to do us honor when success is with us, may be 
the first to throw the stone of malice when failure settles its cloud 
upon our heads. 

''The one absolutely unselfish friend that man can have in this 
selfish world, the one that never deserts him, the one that never proves 
ungrateful or treacherous is his dog. A man's dog stands by him 
in prosperity and in poverty, in health and in sickness. He will 
sleep on the cold ground, where the wintry winds blow and the 
snow drives fiercely, if only he may be near his master's side. He 
will kiss the hand that has no food to offer; he will lick the wounds 
and sores that come in encounter with the roughness of the world. 
He guards the sleep of his pauper master as if he were a prince. 
When all other friends desert, he remains. When riches take wings, 
and reputation falls to pieces, he is as constant in his love as^ the 
sun in its journey through the heavens. 

"If fortune drives the master forth an outcast in the world, friend- 
less and homeless, the faithful dog asks no higher privilege than that 
of accompanying him, to guard him against danger, to fight against 
his enemies. And when the last scene of all comes, and death takes 
his master in its embrace and his body is laid away in the cold ground, 
no matter if all other friends pursue their way ; there by the graveside 
will the noble dog be found, his head between his paws, his eyes 
sad, but open in alert watchfulness, faithful and true even in death." 

— 62 — 



When he concluded his remarks there were but few dry eyes in 
the audience. The case was submitted without further argument, 
and the jury promptly returned a verdict for the plaintiff. 



Education is Action 

Education is action. Too many people think of education as a 
process in which a youngster sits still while some oldster tries to tell 
him something. It can't be done! You can't teach anything to a 
tree or a rock. Learning is an active not a passive affair. A student 
is one who studies. You begin to get into the process of becoming 
educated when something inside of your own head goes to work. 

A university is not a wholesale storehouse of knowledge. A pro- 
fessor is not a purveyor of chunks of knowledge. He is not sup- 
posed, by profession, to be an expert with a wheelbarrow and a 
shovel. A student is not a receptacle into which quantities of knowl- 
edge are to be dumped. Teachers are not birds dropping worms of 
knowledge into open mouths. Even stomachs have to digest. Edu- 
cation is an active, vital, fascinating affair. 

A university is a group of scholars and students with active minds 
intent upon knowing the world and determined to find the truth. Of 
course it must have buildings and lands. Libraries and laboratories 
and hospitals are among the necessary tools. But we find a true 
seat of learning wherever human beings are actually alive mentally 
and 1 spiritually. 

The most challenging fact of life is that every person has an active 
mind. The most distressing fact is that few people ever find it out. 
The tragedy of life is that so few people ever wake up. Emerson 
was entirely right when he insisted that an active soul is "in almost 
all men obstructed and as yet unborn." We shall progress and 
prosper just in proportion as education succeeds in tearing away these 
obstrucions and in setting free the minds of men and women. A 
student is being educated when he gets into action. That activity 
occasionally needs direction and guidance, but the essence of educa- 
tion is action. — M. L. Burton, President University of Michigan 



Enduring Work 

If we work upon marble it will perish; if we work upon brass 
time will efface it; if we rear temples they will crumble into dust; 
but if we work upon immortal minds, if we imbue them with princi- 
ples, with the just fear of God and love of our fellow-men, we 
engrave on those tablets something which will brighten to all eternity. 

— Daniel IVebster 
— 63 — 



In Flanders' Fields 

In Flanders' fields peace reigns once more, 
Its soils unstained by battle gore, 
No foe now treads its sacred ground, 
No more is heard war's hellish sound, 
And poppies bloom now as of yore 
In Flanders' fields. 

Now sleep in peace, O heroes brave! 
We've won the cause you died to save. 
Your sacrifice was not in vain, 
Peace for the world you helped to gain. 
The torch you flung with failing hands 
Was caught by men of many lands, 
Who bore it on, 'mid thundrous peals, 
Crushing the foe beneath their heels. 
You are not dead! Such deeds can't die. 
Your souls live though your bodies lie 

In Flanders' fields. — Dell Hooper Ware 



Hope 

There is no grave on earth's broad chart 

But has some bird to cheer it; 
So hope sings on in every breast, 

Although we may not hear it; 
And if today the heavy wing 

Of sorrow is oppressing, 
Perchance tomorrow's sun may bring 

The weary heart a blessing. 



"Good-Bye" 

There is a word, of grief the sounding token; 

There is a word bejeweled with bright tears; 
The saddest word fond lips have ever spoken; 

A little word that breaks the chain of years. 
Its utterance must ever bring emotion; 

The memories it crystals cannot die; 
'Tis known in every land, on every ocean — 
'Tis called "Good-bye." 



Truth is eternal and will triumph over all opposition. 

— W. J. Bryan 
— 64 — 



Valentine 

Oh, little girl of twenty years ago, 

You're thirty now — perhaps a little more; 
Do you remember how with cheeks aglow, 

You ventured trembling in the village store, 
And hid beneath your little furry coat 

The fancy valentine you bought for me? 
"If you love me as I love you," you wrote, 

"No knife can cut our love in two, — Marie." 
A paper valentine I fashioned too, 

Colored with chalks and fringed and folded so, 
I wrote: "The rose is red, the violet's blue, 

Sugar is sweet, and so are you." But oh, 
Too bad it was that I, ungrateful churl, 

Should go and give it to another girl! 

1 — Author Unknown 

Miss Twenty-One 
Loveliness walks with her, grace is alone; 
Joy is a part of her; youth is her song; 
Color and action and life at the start, 
She is a child of the opaline heart. 
Daintily, airily, f airily born, 
She is the child of the dew and the morn! 

Sweeter than buttercups when they are sweet, 
All the green grasses grow under her feet; 
Swinging and swaying she goes on her way, 
Exquisite as music, alluring as May; 
Lovingly, wooingly, cooingly wrought, 
She is the child that the field fairies brought! 

Red cheeks and bright eyes and lips that are wine 
Of laughter at morning, of blooms on the vine; 
Winter forgotten, turns back unto spring, 
Seeing her strolling and hearing her sing; 
Elfin and eerie and pixie and bright, 
She is the bubble of love and of light! 

— Author Unknown 



How empty is learning, and how vain is art 
But it mends the life and guides the heart. _ Young 

— 65 — 



"Hello" 

• When you see a man in woe, 
Walk right up and say "Hello!" 
Say "Hello!" and "How D'ye Do!" 
"How's the world a usin' you?" 
Slap the fellow on his back, 
Bring your hand down with a whack ; 
Waltz right up and don't go slow, 
Grin and shake and say "Hello!" 

Is he clothed in rags? O sho! 
Walk right up and say "Hello!" 
Rags is but a. cotton roll 
Just for wrappin' up a soul; 
An' a soul is worth a true 
Hale and hearty "How D'ye Do!" 
Don't wait for the crowd to go, 
Walk right up and say "Hello!" 

When big vessels meet they say, 
They salute and sail away; 
Jest the same as you an' me 
Lonesome ships upon a sea; 
Each one sailing his own jog 
For a port beyond the fog. 
Let your speakin' trumpet blow, 
Lift your horn and cry "Hello!" 

Say *'Hello!" and "How D'ye Do!" 

Other folks are good as you. 

When you leave your house of clay 

Wander in' in the far away; 

When you travel through the strange 

Country t'other side the range, 

Then the souls you've cheered will know 

Who you be, and say "Hello!" 

— — 5am Walter Foss 

Emulate the sun-dial whose motto reads: 
"I record none but hours of sunshine." 



Be kind and gentle to those who are old, 
For kindness is dearer and better than gold. 
— 66 — 



Smile 

The thing that goes the farthest 
Toward making life worth while, 

That costs the least and does the most 
Is just a pleasant smile. 



Smile and Hustle 

Smile, and the world smiles with you; 
"Knock," and you go it alone; 
For a cheerful grin 
Will let you in 
Where the "kicker" is never known. 

Growl, and the way looks dreary; 
Laugh, and the way looks bright. 

For a welcome smile 

Brings sunshine, while 
A frown shuts out the light. 

Sigh, and you "rake in" nothing; 
Work, and the prize is won; 

For the nervy man 

With backbone can 
By nothing be outdone. 

Hustle! and fortune awaits you; 
Shirk! and defeat is sure; 

For there's no chance 

Of deliverance 
For the chap who can't endure. 

Sing, and the world's harmonious; 
Grumble, and things go wrong, 

And all the time 

You are out of rhyme , 
With the busy, hustling throng. 

Kick, and there's trouble brewing; 
Whistle, and li'fe is gay, 
And the world's in tune 
Like a day in June, 
And the clouds all melt away. 

— Author Un^norvn 
— 67 — 



Thinking 

If you think you are beaten, you are; 

If you think you dare not, you don't; 
If you like to win, and don't think you can, 

It's almost a cinch you won't. 

If you think you'll lose, you're lost, 

For out in the world we find 
Success begins with a fellow's will; 

It's all in the state of mind. 

Full many a race is lost 

Ere even a step is run, 
And many a coward fails 

Ere even his work is begun. 

Think big and your deeds will grow, 
Think small and you'll fall behind; 

Think that you can and you will — 
It's all in the state of mind. 

If you think you're outclassed, you are; 

You've got to think high to rise; 
You've got to be sure of yourself before 

You ever can win a prize. 

Life's battle don't always go 

To the stronger or faster man; 
But, sooner or later, the man who wins 

Is the fellow who thinks he can. 

—Walter D. IVintle 



Life's Lesson 

As I stepped softly in, one afternoon, 

And saw my tired-out babe lie, breathing deep 
Upon a rug, her little playthings strewn 

Where she had dropped them as she fell asleep, 
I thought: What speaks this picture, but the way 

Of every human life? We bring our toys 
And sit down in some favored spot to play 

And babble of our sorrows and our joys, 
Till comes on silent wings a slumber deep, 

And we lie down amid our toys — to sleep. 
— 68 — 



Patriotism 

Patriotism is something more than a sentiment, however enthusi- 
astically expressed. It is something more than saluting the Flag or 
singing America and The Star Spangled Banner. Patriotism is 
consciousness of obligation and readiness for service. 

' — — John Crier Hibben 

It Can Be Done! 

Somebody said that it couldn't be done 

But he, with a chuckle, replied 
That "maybe it couldn't," but he would be one 

Who wouldn't say so till he tried. 
So he buckled right in, with a trace of a grin 

On his face — if he worried he hid it; 
He started to sing as he tackled the thing 

That couldn't be done, and He Did It! 

Somebody scoffed, "Oh, you'll never do that, 

At least no one ever has done it." 
But he took off his coat and he took off his hat 

And the first thing we knew he'd begun it. 
With a lift of his chin and bit of a grin, 

Without any doubting or quibble, 
He started to sing as he tackled the thing 

That "cannot be done" and He Did It! 

There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done, 

There are thousands to prophesy failure ; 
There are thousands to point out to you, one by one, 

The dangers that wait to resist you. 
But just buckle in with a bit of a grin, 

Then take off your coat and go to it; 
Just start in to sing as you tackle the thing 

That "cannot be done," and You'll Do It! 

- — Author Unknown 

The Man Who Will Win 

"Give me the man who can hold on when others let go ; who pushes 
ahead when others turn back; who stiffens up when others weaken; 
who advances when others retreat; who knows no such word as 
"can't" or "give up;" and I will show you a man who will win in the 
end, no matter what opposes him, no matter what obstacles confront 
him." 

— 69 — 



Going Down 

Don't do any work when the boss isn't there, 

And loaf when he is, if he'll let you; 
His business will suffer, but why should you care? 

His troubles ought never to fret ijou. 
Don't save any money — just blow all your pay, 

For if you go broke you can borrow, 
And though you may land in the poorhouse some day, 

Forget about that till tomorrow. 

Sneak out of all tasks that you possibly can, 

Or hunt for an easy way through them; 
Leave all the hard jobs to some dull-witted man, 

Who will always be willing to do them. 
Be sure to break out with a harrowing wail 

If duties are rough or unpleasant; 
And though you are likely to wind up in jail, 

Don't think about that — for the present. 

Don't stand for rude talk, if the boss calls you down ; 

There are plenty of men who will hire you; 
Look right in his eye, and observe with a frown, 

If he don't like your work, he can fire you. 
Perhaps you'll get by, if this course you pursue, 

Though the chances are very much greater 
That before very long you will starve if you do, 

But that you can think about later. 

This wisdom we never have gathered from books, 

Philosophers never supplied it; 
We got it from loafers and grafters and crooks, 

And all of these worthies have tried it. 
They've followed these rules very closely they say, 

And if you will look where it got 'era, 
Forthwith you'll agree it's the speediest way 

To get from the top to the bottom! 

' — James J. Montague 

Lost 

Yesterday, somewhere between sunrise and sunset — 
Two golden hours, each set with sixty diamond minutes. 
No reward is offered, for they are gone forever. 

— Horace Mann 
— 70 — 



Get To Work 

Our golden age lies before us, and! not behind, 

Brooding doesn't help your cause, — get to work ; 

Nothing gained by picking flaws, — get to work. 

Weak are trampled by the strong? 

You a victim of man's wrong? 

Stand the storm. It won't be long — get to work. 

' — C. F. Deems 

Boost 

Boost your city, boost your friend, 

Boost the church that you attend; 

Boost the street on which you're dwelling, 

Boost the goods that you are selling; 

Boost the people 'round about you — 

They can get along without you, 

But success will quicker find them 

If they know that you're behind them. 

Boost for eveiy forward movement; 

Boost for every new improvement; 

Boost the man for whom you labor; 

Boost the stranger and the neighbor; 

Cease to be a chronic knocker; 

Cease to be a progress blocker; 

If you'd make your city better, 

Boost it to the final letter. — Author Unknown 



A Large Edition 

May I print a kiss on your lips? I asked: 
She nodded her sweet permission; 

So we went to press, and I rather guess 
We printed a large edition. 



So Would You 

Her lips were so near, 

That what else could I do? 
You'll be angry, I fear, 

But her lips were so near, 
Well, I can't make it clear 

Or explain it to you, 
But — her lips were so near, 

That what else could I do? 
— 7! — 



Pa Shaved Off His Whiskers 

I haven't had such jolly fun for forty thousand years, 
Jes' laughed until I thought my eyes was runnin' out in tears; 
An' Ma she slapped me on my back to help me ketch my breath, 
An' said she couldn't blame me if I laughed myself to death. 
My ribs got sore like they was biles, my head got achin', and 
My inside fixin's hurt like they had more than they could stand ; 
An' every time I see him yet, I have to fetch a grin, 
Because he looks so awful queer with nothin' on his chin. 

There never was a father's son 

That had such jolly, roarin' fun 

As me, since children was begun, 

Since Pa shaved off his whiskers. 

He blushed jes' like a giggly girl when he come home that night, 

An' Ma, she met him at the door an' nodded real polite, 

An' asked him if he'd not come in, a-lookin' of him o'er 

Jes' like she was a-wonderin' where she'd seen them clothes before. 

She offered him the rockin' cheer, and asked him fur his hat, 

An' when she hung it up, she looked suspiciously at that, 

An' him a-grinnin all the time, and her a-lookin' skeered, 

An' me a-sizin' of him up an' honestly afeard! 

But when he looked almighty shy 

At me, an' winked his other eye, 

I yelled to bust; "Why, Ma, the guy 
Is Pa; shaved off his whiskers." 

Pa heaved back in the rockin' cheer an' fetched a big "Haw, haw." 

I had a real hysterics fit, an' roared, an' squealed, an' Ma 

She stood like she was paralyzed, an' stared in stupid way, 

Jes' like to save her life she couldn't think of what to say, 

An' then she reached her fingers out and rubbed 'em on his chin, 

An' darned if either one of 'em could do a thing but grin, 

An' then she stooped and tuk a kiss, an' say, I'll jes' be blamed, 

That orful naked mouth of Pa's looked like it was ashamed! 

'Twas orful mean of me, I know, 

But I jes' had to laugh or go 

Insane, it paralyzed me so, 

When Pa shaved off his whiskers. 

When Ma regained her consciousness, I heard her softly say: 
"Why, Willyum, you hain't looked so young fur many an' many 
a day — 

— 72 — 



Look something like you lister look them times when me an' you 
Was courtin' up to married life, indeed, indeed you do." 
An' then she sat upon his knee a-feelin' of his chin, 
Jes' like they was a lovin' pair that wasn't any kin; 
An' me a rollin' on the floor, jes' like a dyin' calf, 
Fur every time I'd take a peep at Pa, I'd have to laugh. 

But now he doesn't look so bad, 

An' never was a prouder lad 

Than me, to have so young a dad, 
Since Pa shaved off his whiskers. 

— — — — Author Unknown 

"Ifs" For Girls 

If you can dress to make yourself attractive, 
Yet not make puffs and curls your chief delight; 
If you can swim and row, be strong and active, 
But of the gentler grace, lose not sight; 
If you can dance without a craze for dancing, 
Play without giving play too strong a hold, 
Enjoy the love of friends without romancing, 
Care for the weak, the friendless, and the old; 
If you can master French and Greek and Latin, 
And not acquire, as well, a priggish mien; 
If you can feel the touch of silk and satin 
Without despising calico and jean; 
If you can ply a saw and use a hammer, 
Can do a man's work when the need occurs, 
Can sing, when asked, without excuse or stammer, 
Can rise above unfriendly snubs and slurs; 
If you can make good bread as well as fudges, 
Can sew with skill, and have an eye for dust; 
If you can be a friend and hold no grudges, 
A girl whom all will love because they must; 
If sometiimies you should meet and love another, 
And make a home with faith and peace enshrined 
And you its soul — a loyal wife and mother, 
You'll work out pretty nearly to my mind 
The plan that's been developed through the ages, 
And win the best that life can have in store; 
You'll be, my girl, a model for the sages, 
A woman whom the world will bow before. 

— Elizabeth Lincoln Otis 
— 73 — 



The Good Die Young 

There was a man who never told a lie — 

But he's dead! 
Never said it was wet when the weather was dry; 
Never said he'd caught fish when he hadn't caught one; 
Never said he'd done something that he hadn't done; 
Never scolded his wife, and never got mad, 
And wouldn't believe that the world was so bad — 
A respecter of men, a defender of woman, 
Who believed in the divine and in that which is human. 
Meek as Moses — he never was understood 
And the poor man died of being too good — 

But he's dead! 

There was a woman who never gossiped a bit — 

She's dead too! 
Who hated all scandal, nor listened to it. 
She believed in mankind, took care of her cat; 
Always turned a deaf ear to this story or that; 
Nor scolded her husband (she never had one). 
No sluggard was she, but rose with the sun; 
Never whispered in meetings; didn't care for a bonnet, 
Nor for all the feathers that one could put on it! 
Never sat with the choir, nor sang the wrong note; 
Expressed no desire to lecture or vote — 
For the poor soul was deaf as a post — also dumb — 
You might have called forever and she wouldn't come, 

And she's dead! — Author Unknown 



The Cheerful Way 

Life! we've been long together 

Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; 

'Tis hard to part when friends are dear, 

Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear. 

Then steal away, give little warning, 

Choose thine own time: 

Say not "Good-night," but in some brighter clime 

Bid me "Good-morning." — Mrs. Barbauld 



Be true to your word, and! your work and your friend. 

— 74 — 



A Christmas Pudding 

Take some human nature, as you find it, 

The commonest variety will do, 
Put a little graciousness behind it, 

Add a lump of chanty, or two; 
Squeeze in just a drop of moderation, 

Half as much frugality, or less, 
Add some very fine consideration, 

Strain off all of poverty's distress; 
Pour some milk of human kindness in it, 

Put in al the happiness you can, 
Stir it up with laughter every minute, 

Season with goodwill toward every man; 
Set it on the fire of heart's affection, 

Leave it till the jolly bubbles rise, 
Sprinkle it with kisses for confection, 

Sweeten with a look from loving eyes; 
Flavor it with children's merry chatter, 

Frost it with the snow of wintry dells, 
Place it on a holly-garnished platter 

And serve it with the song of Christmas bells. 
. — Author Unknown 

A Beautiful Allegory / 

It is said that J. J. Crittenden, Kentucky's most eminent lawyer 
sixty years ago, never lost a case he pleaded before a jury. 

In defense of a poor person of feeble mind he used the following 
allegory : 

"When God conceived the plan of creating man he called the 
three angels that waited on His throne — Justice, Truth and Mercy — ■ 
and said, 'Shall we make man?' 

"Justice said, 'Make him not, O God, he will trample upon thy 
laws!' Truth also answered, 'Make him not, O God, he will pollute 
your sanctuaries!' Mercy, kneeling and looking up through her 
tears, said, 'Make him, O God, and I will watch over him in the 
dark hours of his life!' 

"So God made man and said, 'O Man, thou art the child of 
Mercy; go out and live with thy brother.' " 



Wisdom is knowing what to do. Skill is knowing how to do it* 
Real human service is doing skillfully what we know should be done. 

— 75 — 



That Christmas Turkey 

(The Small Boy Tells About It) 
Youngish but tender, big and sweet, 
And fit for even gods to eat! 
Ah! joint and breast and dark meat and white- 
Suit well a Chris'mas appetite; 
When daddy carved, with keen-edged knife, 
Those slices rare, you bet your life 
We kids didn't do a thing 
To that there bird! But neck and wing, 
Gizzard and liver, leg and back, 
They all slid down the gullet's track! 
O, heavenly joy, when Dinah basted 
That glorious fowl, then we all tasted 
Delicious cuts, nor felt forlorn 
When served with 'taters and sweet corn, - 
And currant jelly, cranberry sauce, 
Olives and celery, salad course, 
Mince pie, plum pudding, and ice cream, 
And all the things that make you dream 
About your granny's ghost at night! 
But nightmares — pshaw! — you're surely right, 
We tack'l'd carcass, stuffed and brown — 
With gravy drench'd it — gulped it down — 
And finished, then with coffee, cheese, 
Raisins, and nuts! Such things as these 
Helped each small, healthy, hungry sinner 
T' enjoy, like fun, his Chris'mas dinner! 



My Creed 
I would be true, for there are those that trust me; 

I would be pure, for there are those who care; 
I would be strong, for there is much to suffer; 

I would be brave, for there is much to dare. 
I would be friend of all — the foe — the friendless ; 

I would be giving, and forget the gift; 
I would be humble, for I know my weakness ; 

I would look up — and laugh — and love — and lift. 

■ — — Harold Arnold Walters 

Too many people are singing "Scatter Sunshine," 

and waiting for some one else to do it. 

— 76 — 



You Kissed Me 

You kissed me! My head drooped low on your breast 
With a feeling of shelter and infinite rest, 
While the holy emotions my tongue dared not speak, 
Flashed up as in flame, from my heart to my cheek; 
Your arms held me fast; oh! your arms were so bold; 
Heart beat against heart in their passionate fold. 
Your glances seemed drawing my soul through mine eyes, 
As the sun draws the mist from the sea to the skies; 
Your lips clung to mine till I prayed in my bliss 
They might never unclasp from the rapturous kiss. 

You kissed me! My heart, my breath, and my will 

In delirious joy for a moment stood still ; 

Life had for me then no temptations, no charms, 

No visions of rapture outside of your arms; 

And were I this instant an angel possessed 

Of the peace and the joy that belong to the blest, 

I would fling my white robes unrepiningly down, 

I would tear from my forehead its beautiful crown, 

To nestle once more in that haven of rest — 

Your lips upon mine, my head on your breast. 

You kissed me! My soul in a bliss so divine 

Reeled and swooned like a drunkard when foolish with wine, 

And I thought 'twere delicious to die there, if death 

Would but come while my lips were yet moist with your breath; 

While your arms clasped me round in that blissful embrace, 

While your eyes melt in mine could e'en death e'er efface. 

Oh, these are the questions I ask day and night: 

Must my lips taste no more such exquisite delight? 

Would you wish that your breast were my shelter as then? — 

And if you were here, would you kiss me again? 

' — — — — Author Unfynoivn 

Coughs are ungrateful things. You find one out in the cold; you 
take it up, nurse it, make everything of it, dress it up warm, give it 
all sorts of balsams, and other food it likes, and carry it around in 
your bosom as if it were a miniature lap-dog. And by-and-by, its 
little bark grows sharp and savage, and — confound the thing! you 
find it is a wolf's whelp that you have got there, and he is gnawing 
in the breast where he has been nestling so long. — O. IV. Holmes 

— 77 — 



A Bay's Remarks to His Stomach 

(The Morning After) 
What's the matter with you — ain't I always been your friend? 
Ain't I been a pardner to you? All my pennies don't I spend 
In getting nice things for you? Don't I give you lots of cake? 
Say, stummick, what's the matter, that you had to go and ache? 
Why, I loaded you with good things yesterday — I gave you more 
Potatoes, squash and turkey than you'd ever had before. 
I gave you nuts and candy, pumpkin pies and chocolate cake, 
And last night when I got to bed you had to go and ache ! 

Say, what's the matter with you? Ain't you satisfied at all? 
I gave you all you wanted; you was hard just like a ball; 
And you couldn't hold another bit of puddin,' yet last night 
You ached most awful, stummick; that ain't treatin' me just right! 
I've been a friend to you, I have; why ain't you a friend of mine? 
They gave me castor oil last night because you made me whine. 
I'm awful sick this mornin' and I'm feelin' mighty blue, 
Becoz you don't appreciate the things I do for you. 

— Hubbard's Silent Salesman 



The New Surgery 
In a short time, according to a prominent surgeon, it will be a 
common thing to transplant with success the vital organs of lower 
animals to the human body, as evidenced by the following: 

Bill Smith was in a railroad wreck — the cars were ground to matches^r- 
And when the surgeons got to him Bill Smith was mostly patches ; 
But soon with a pair of rabbit's ears, Bill Smith was keenly harking, 
While lungs from out a setter dbg had set Bill Smith a-barking. 
The doctors solved most capably the missing stomach question: 
Two stomachs from a muley cow built up Bill Smith's digestion; 
And when a horse contributed (with no thanks to the giver) 
Bill Smith would not have taken back his ancient family liver. 
A pair of cat's eyes tickled Bill and fixed him up completely, 
And he could see in blackest night, and dodged his light bills neatly ; 
And when folks asked if he was pleased with all his borrowed tackle, 
Bill Smith would just throw back his head and give an old hen's 
cackle ! ^__ 

All men are LlARS, except You and Me — and I have my Doubts 
about You. 

— 78- 



The Three Dudes 

Three dudes were walking along the street one morning, and met 
an aged, decrepit minister, with long white hair and beard. Desiring 
to poke fun at the old man, the first called out, "Hello, Father 
Abraham.'* The second said, "Hello, Father Isaac," and the third 
chimed in, "Hello, Father Jacob." The minister seeing the situation, 
and likewise using Scripture, quietly replied, "I am neither Abraham, 
nor Isaac, nor Jacob, but Saul, the son of Kish, who went forth to 
hunt his father's asses; and behold I have found them." 



His Last Request 

"Pat," said the priest, "you're drunk, and I'm going to make you 
stop this right here. If you ever get drunk again I'll turn you into a 
rat — do you mind that? If I don't see you I'll know about it just 
the same, and into a rat you go. Now you mind that." 

Pat was very docile that night, but the next evening he came home 
even worse drunk than ever, kicked in the door, and Biddy dodged 
behind the table to defend herself. 

"Don't be afraid, darlint," said Pat, as he steadied himself be- 
fore dropping into a chair, "I'm not going to bate ye. I won't lay 
the weight of me finger on ye. I want ye to be kind to me tonight, 
darlint, and to remember the days when we was swatehearts and 
when ye loved me. You know his riverince said last night if I got 
dhrunk again he'd turn me into a rat. He didn't see me, but he 
knows I'm dhrunk, and this night into a rat I go. But I want ye 
to be kind to me, darlint, and watch me, and when ye see me gettin' 
little, and the hair growin' out on me, and me whiskers gettin' long, 
if ye ever loved me, darlint, for God's sake keep yer eye on the cat." 

— Author Unknown 

The Knocker 

After God had finished making the rattlesnake, the toad, and the 
vampire, he had some awful substance left with which he made a 
knocker. 

A knocker is a two-legged animal with a cork-screw soul, a water- 
sogged brain, and a combination backbone made of jelly and glue. 
Where other men have their hearts he carries a tumor of decayed 
principles. 

When the knocker comes down the street, honest men turn their 
backs, the angels weep tears in heaven, and the Devil shuts the gates 
of hell to shut him out. Wow! 

— 79 — 



GEMS 

A friend is one who sets his heart upon us, is happy in us, delights 
in us, does for us what we want, is willing and fully engaged to do all 
he can for us, on whom we can rely in all cases. Charming 

Character is power. Hang this motto in every school in the land, 
in every home, in every youth's room. Mothers engrave it on every 
child's heart. 

The law of the harvest is to reap more than you sow. Sow an act, 
and yo\i reap a habit ; sow a habit, and you reap a character ; sow a 
character, and you reap a destiny. — Boardman 

We grow like what we contemplate; therefore, contemplate the 
good, the true, the beautiful. 

Courtesy is the eye that overlooks your friend's broken gateway, 
but sees the rose that blossoms in his garden. 

Youth fades; love droops; the leaves of friendship fall; a mother's 
secret love outlives them all. — Holmes 



In life's chain of love there is no other link so strong as that of 
mother's. 

I asert confidently that it is; in the power of every good American 
mother to make as many gentlemen as she has sons. — Harland 

A school song in the heart of a child will do as much for his 
character as a fact in his memory or a principle in his intellect. 

— Phillip Broods 

Associate yourself with men of quality, if you esteem your own 
reputation, for it is better to be alone than in bad company. 

— Washington 

Oh, how hard it is> to die and not be able to leave the world any 
better for one's little life in it. — Lincoln 



Set a high price on your leisure moments, for they are sands of 
precious gold. — 

Count that day lost whose low descending sun views from t'hv hand 
no worthy action done. — — Rohart 

It is easier to suppress the first desire than to satisfy all that follow it. 

— Franklin 

Habit is like a cable; we weave a thread of it each day until it 
becomes so strong we cannot break it. Horace Mann 



Let your life be like a snow-flake, which leaves a mark, but not 

a stain. 

To all, to each, a fair good night 

And pleasant dreams, and slumbers light. 

— Scott 
— 80 — 






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